stand by me
by maddtropics
Summary: the sunshine was the same, the island was the same, but it was the seventies. because of course it was
1. Chapter 1

A chorus of frog croaks, cricket chirps, and the calls of native birds echoed throughout the compound. Patches of ferns, flowers, and other neatly trimmed greenery spilled just barely over the edges of their beds, bordering on either side of a long, winding concrete path weaving through a small, grassy expanse. Low-slung yellow houses were peppered between the patches of greenery, their siding freshly washed and windows clean. Curtains and small windowsill trinkets could be glimpsed through the window. It was dark, but tall, golden-yellow streetlamps illuminated the path, not a single one flickering or dirty. If not for the distant howls and yips of jungle dogs and other animals, it would have looked like the perfect neighborhood.

Around the corner, Horace strode down the path, hands in his pockets, leading the way toward the northeast end of the neighborhood. Trailing behind him, a small, tired-looking group. James follows close behind, almost in step with him, head bowed slightly with exhaustion. Behind them, Miles and Jin walked side by side, marveling at the cleaned-up and lived-in barracks. A few steps behind them, Daniel walked in a slow, staggering manner, mumbling to himself. Juliet followed close behind, eyes half-blank, and keeping half an eye on the scientist.

"—And you know, it's great here! It really is, just like living in Florida. Even more beautiful than Florida." Horace was saying cheerily, as if trying to keep the mood elevated, half-rambling as he took the group of ship-wreckers toward their temporary residence. He went silent for a moment, nervously rubbing his neck.

"James—"

"Jim. You can call me Jim." James cut him off gruffly, exhaustion obvious in his voice.

"Jim—Uh, thanks for saving me back there. With Richard I mean, you really didn't have to risk your neck for us like that." He continued earnestly, glancing at the apparent leader of the group.

James waited for a moment before responding, taking a deep breath of the sticky, humid island air and glancing up at the sky. "'Course. Was my responsibility, nothin' to it." He said dismissively. He gazed at the barely visible stars above, thinking about how nice it would be to finally get back into some air conditioning. At this point, he didn't care if he was sleeping on the floor, anything was better than the jungle.

"Y-Yeah, uh—We've had some issues lately. I mean, not _big _issues, haha—just some stress, security problems, it's a given living here." Horace glanced at one of the houses as it passed by. It had a small, concrete 'porch' made up of a few stairs and a concrete block at the foot of the front door, covered with decorative pots full of herbs. It was obvious the makeshift garden, and the house, were well-lived-in. "It's kinda tough. Taking care of everyone, making sure everyone's safe—You understand, don't you?"

James nodded and grunted quietly in agreement, still staring off into the distance. Behind him, the rest of the group was silent, save for Daniel's incoherent rambling.

They quietly rounded the corner, turning off of the main concrete path and onto a smaller one weaving between houses. Juliet turned to glance at Daniel, who was picking at his fingers and murmuring. She bit her lip, feeling a bit of her dissociative front crumbling. Caring about people on the island was a death sentence, one would only get themselves hurt being compassionate. However, she couldn't help looking at Daniel. He was no threat to anyone, certainly not her. He had just lost Charlotte, of course he was upset. She blinked, before turning to glance at the passing houses.

They were clean, inhabited, fully maintenanced. Everything was so, so different from present day. Windchimes hung from the eaves, plants and porch furniture sat by the doors, and she could glimpse white picket fences through the alleyways. There would be an occasional light on, but it looked like everyone was asleep.

"Here we are!" Horace announced, pausing on the doorstep of a house and gesturing to the structure, "It's not much, but it's got two bedrooms and we can bring a cot in tomorrow morning."

The group stopped in front of the small house. It was rectangular shaped with most of the windows facing forward into the compound, overlooking a break in the narrow pathway containing a small patch of grass, leading up to a small grove of imported trees on the other end of the lawn. The house looked just like the others, though all houses in Dharma had slight differences in room or layout.

"Is it unlocked?" Said Miles, walking forward to inspect the wrought iron screen door.

"No, no—you don't need to worry about that." Horace said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's quite safe here, these doors don't lock." He added casually, opening both doors and waving toward the inside "Everything should be working, there's canned foods and the like in the cabinets, and we'll send over a box of fresh goods in a bit—It's pretty late, we're kinda strapped for supplies at these hours."

One by one, the group filed in. The house was dark, lit by a mixture of pale moonlight and the streetlamps outside. The crickets and other outside noises were muffled by the walls, making it eerily quiet. The sound of windchimes from the house next door just barely chimed over the ambience, and a grandfather clock was ticking somewhere in the living room. James was the first one in, stepping in cautiously in his military work boots. Everything was—different from the last time he was in one of these houses. The carpets were more shag and far less stained and worn. The appliances were squeaky clean and running well, and the curtains were far, far less tasteful. He'd never been in this one specific house before—or he didn't think he did, considering how different everything looked in the 70s.

Daniel stopped before entering, swaying a little on unsteady feet. Juliet came up behind him, watching him closely. "I-It's all different. It changed…" He whispered to no one in particular, staring at the interior of the house. Juliet put a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him inside.

She almost winced at the feeling of the plush, shag carpet under her boots, immediately hit with a wave of bad memories at the kind of ambient, 'old book' type smell that typically accompanied the barracks houses. Juliet joined the others standing about aimlessly in the space between the living room and the hall.

"A-And if you need anything—" Horace began, breaking the awkward silence. "I'm right down the street! House number one. Or I'll be at the security station, either way! I'll leave you guys to enjoy your night." He gently clicked the door shut with a polite smile and nod, leaving the ship-wreckers to their own devices.

"This looks like my grandma's house." James grumbled, wandering toward the large grandfather clock. The house was small, but homey. To the right of the entryway was a vanity, topped with small trinkets and obviously faked fabric plants, and shortly beyond that was a hallway, long and straight, with doors on either side. At the end of the hallway there was a sharp turn that led further into the house. To the left of the entry was a small, rectangular living room that consisted of several couches, armchairs, and other furniture centered around a very large wooden table. Beyond the seating area was the kitchen, which had the typical half-wall divider and the wall posts separating it. The house was presumably unlived in, but fully furnished.

Daniel went straight to the open window in the living room, looking out across the compound. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass, careful not to disturb the small, vintage figurines lined up on the windowsill. He felt distant from his own body, heavily disconnected from everything that had happened. Had it been a day? A few hours? It was almost dream-like. His eyes searched the grassy lawn and what little of the compound he could see from the window. Movement on the eave of a house caught his eye, but it was just a windchime twirling passively in its place.

The scientist stiffened, feeling a presence next to him at the window. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Juliet. He didn't know anything about her. One of Ben's people, most likely, but he wasn't even really concerned about that. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, moving to pick up one of the ceramic figurines in the shape of an angel, turning it over in the light.

"My sister used to have one of these." She murmured quietly, running a thumb gently over the features of the figure's face. "It was a present from my aunt after she was born. She had it on her nightstand since she was a baby." The blonde smiled, just the slightest bit. "I remember she broke it once, one of the wings came off. I told my mom I was the one who broke it." She trailed off, placing the angel back in its place and glancing out at the window.

Daniel was barely listening; his head was full of equations and theories and questions. He took a deep breath, looking for any movement outside the window. A hand rested on his shoulder.

"1974. We're in 1974." He murmurs after a moment. "There was a Mark-8 in the rec room closet, it's sometime after July 1974." He winced slightly at his throbbing headache, no doubt the result of stress and lack of sleep, and wiped beads of sweat off his brow.

Juliet nodded understandingly. There was a stiffness, a formality to the way she moved, talked—robotic almost. But for a few fleeting seconds, concern flashed in her eyes. She blinked slowly, glancing back toward the hallway, and then at the grandfather clock.

"Daniel. Nothing's going to be happening for a long time. Perhaps you should rest?" She suggested, gently prying him away from the window.

Daniel was far too apathetic to resist. Everything was slow and dreamlike, the array of tacky paintings, strange pieces of modern art, and ominous-looking masks and artifacts all hanging on the walls blended together as he was led down the hallway. Juliet stops at the first door to her left, trying to remember if she'd been in this model of house before. Everything seemed so eerily familiar, yet so different at the same time. She gently clicks open the door, the mixture of moonlight and the glow of the streetlamp seeping in through the window on the opposite wall, the curtains were drawn but the blinds were up. She was able to barely make out a bed in the darkness and steered Daniel inside, flicking on the light.

Juliet felt deeply useless; any purpose she'd had having been wiped from her name a long time ago. For so long she'd had to erase every bit of her identity except for being one of Ben's group. Now that was gone, and she had nothing. She felt a tinge of her normal self, in a kind of sympathetic pull toward Daniel, but she'd trained herself out of that a long time ago. It would be hard, learning to live again. It would be so much easier to sit by and not do anything, but she just wouldn't allow herself to. If she was to be a part of any group, she needed to be useful, even if she was still seen as some kind of ticking timebomb to the rest of the time-travelers.

"Woah there, hey—What are you doing?" Came a voice from the hallway. Miles appeared in the doorframe, craning his neck to see into the room. He took a glance around as Juliet gently guided Daniel to the bed. "Aren't you gonna tuck me into bed too?" He prodded after a moment. Juliet caught his fingers loosely feeling the fabric of his shirt out of the corner of her eye. If there was one thing that she was good at after three years of Others Boot Camp, it was reading people, especially their tics and nervous tells. Miles' was fidgeting, especially with his clothes, so it wasn't hard to see the concern in his eyes.

"I think James would be glad to tuck you in." She replied, turning on the bedside lamp and rising from where she had taken off Daniel's shoes and placed them under the bed. She could feel his eyes on her, almost protectively, but at this point she was used to being watched, as if she could turn at any moment.

Miles huffed at her response, before wandering into the room. "Daniel—you alright?"

"He's not, Miles, he has a fever—Daniel please sit down." Juliet cut across him, before quickly moving to keep Daniel on the bed. Daniel shook his head wordlessly, resting his forehead into the palm of his hand. Miles continued to fidget with the collar of his shirt, nervously overlooking him. Miles had a tendency to put emotions and feelings into their own little box and store them away in favor of dealing with them much later, but he couldn't help a little concern bleeding through. He wasn't acknowledging the anxiety mentally, but he couldn't ignore the thumping of his heart. He was obviously scared but refusing to acknowledge it.

Miles knew very little of Juliet other than her being one of Ben's people. And the fact she and James seemed to get along pretty well during the flashes. The only people he really knew were the ones he came here with. Lapidus was gone. Charlotte was dead. And Daniel—Well, he wasn't in the best state right now. Suddenly, he started back to reality, realizing he had spaced out. He re-scanned his surroundings, noticing Daniel in bed and Juliet looking at him patiently from the doorframe, her hand on the light switch. He wasn't sure what to make of her, strangely mysterious, constantly unfazed by anything, yet so—human. He nodded and ducked out of the room after her with a last look at Daniel.

Juliet led the way out of the hall, noticing the door across from the bedroom was open and revealed a small bathroom. The smell of coffee mixed with the ambient, old-book-and-perfume smell of the house, and she was greeted with the sight of James and Jin standing in the dark kitchen over the coffeemaker.

Jin was holding a bag of coffee grounds, tapping the instructions on the back. "Two scoops." He said firmly, in reference to Sawyer, who was holding a third scoop of coffee grounds above the already-full filter.

"I know what I'm doing, Chewie." Jim responded, adamant on overloading the coffee maker.

"I've been gone for two minutes and you're already fighting again."

The two turned as Juliet and Miles made their entrance into the kitchen.

"Where's Dr. Nutcase?" Sawyer counters, putting down the scoop of coffee grounds, which Jin quickly takes from him and pours back into the bag.

"He's in bed. With a fever." Juliet responded, turning her gaze to the coffee maker. "Don't overload those, they break easily."

James threw his hands up in surrender and brushed past her. "Alrighty then, Ms. Other. Jus' tryna' give everyone a good kickstart. "

"'Dharma Coffeehouse Roast' has never 'kickstarted' anyone, believe me." She returned, smirking a little. At the very least, it was nice to find someone with a sense of humor. Ben was notoriously against jokes of any sort.

Juliet eased herself onto the counter as the smell of coffee turned from grounds to fresh brew. Everyone poured themselves a cup in their Dharma-stamped white mugs and took a seat at the table, which had a lace placemat beneath a large, antique silver kettle as a centerpiece.

"So, when do we start discoing?" Miles said, breaking the silence.

"Calm down, we're not 'discoing' anytime soon." James leaned back in his chair. "Horace said we can look for our crew, I have a feeling that's all we're gonna be doing for a while."

Juliet fidgeted absentmindedly with the lace on the centerpiece, listening with half-an-ear to the rambling. "We're not on house arrest, James. Have some faith in your abilities, especially with how friendly he's been toward us since you talked to Richard." She commented.

"Horace ain't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he's the mayor of Dharmaville, he ain't gonna let us walk around like one of them. Even if he did, I'm pretty sure people would notice." The con man nodded toward the window above the sink, which sat directly across from a window on the next-door neighbor's house. The light was on, and it certainly hadn't been before.

"You lived in these houses before, didn't you? Did you know anything about Dharma, the people who lived here?" Miles cut in, shifting his gaze from James to Juliet.

Juliet leaned back in her chair as well, smiling politely. "I lived in the houses, that doesn't mean I knew anything about Dharma. Other than the fact they did science experiments and kept various animals."

It was true; despite living in the little yellow Dharma-brand bungalows, almost all traces of the Dharma people had been scrubbed, either being discarded and burned in large bonfires, or lost to the elements and rot beginning to take them over. There were hints here and there; yellowed family photos in frames that had fallen behind dressers or under furniture, junk drawers full of post-it notes with things like "Dinner's in the fridge, love you!" and "Call Judy tonight," scrawled on them.

One of the more well-preserved things Juliet had found in her own house was a dresser drawer that must have been missed when her people were cleaning out the houses, containing a small set of Dharma-brand makeup. They were all encased in white boxes and applicators with no brand or logo other than the familiar Dharma seal. Juliet picked up some kind of pressed powder and opened it-choking a little on the god-awful chemical smell—and saw a few perfectly-preserved fingerprints in the powder. They were fingers much smaller and daintier than her own, and for a moment the aura in the house was disturbed. It was that day she realized that the house was not, and never will be hers, and she found herself mourning for the stranger who once lived there. What had happened to them? Some of the houses nobody lived in had dishes in the sink and on the drying rack, bathroom counters strewn with beauty products, beds unmade—as if they had left in a hurry, or not of their own accord.

"Science and animals—better jot that down." Muttered Miles, leaning back and sipping his coffee, before recoiling slightly at the taste. "Stuff's rancid! I hope you checked the date on the bag," He said to James, putting down the cup and crossing his arms. Juliet smiled knowingly

"I'm afraid this is as good as it gets," she replied, "If you think this is bad, you should taste it when its expired."

Miles shook his head, before abruptly standing and pushing his chair in, disdainfully dumping the 'rancid' cup in the sink. "If you two are gonna keep flirting," he nodded toward Juliet and Sawyer, "I'm gonna call first dibs on the shower." He unceremoniously kicked off his boots in the kitchen and walked down the hall, opening and then shutting several doors until he found the bathroom.

"Well, guess it's just you, me, and Jin-bo now." Said the apparent leader of their small group, surveying the table. "I guess there ain't much to do now, that is, unless we're gonna go for a little night swimmin' in the lake?" He grinned cheekily, while Juliet rolled her eyes.

"Sawyer," Jin said suddenly from the other side of the table, gesturing a little to try and convey his words more, "Ship-crew?"

"Huh?" 

"He's talking about the rest of our 'crew.' Horace is letting us look for them." Juliet explained, nodding to Jin.

James scoffed a little. "Yeah, that's part of it— But I'm guessing we need to establish ourselves in Hippieville if we're gonna be in a good position once Locke gets back." 

Jin attempts to speak again before James cuts him off.

"—And, we gotta get to the bottom of this Dharma mystery, don't you think?"

Juliet frowns, "What mystery?"

"These Dharma folks! You yourself said you don't know much about 'em, but you lived in their houses." James threw up his hands and gave her a dimpled smile. "You gotta admit, you have to be at least a little curious."

Juliet laughs and shakes her head a bit. "Even if I was, how are we 'solving' the mystery? You being nosy doesn't count as an investigation." She looked down at the half-drunk coffee cup, just barely catching her own reflection in the dark liquid. "Besides, I doubt there's anything to solve. They're a compound of scientists and hippies doing experiments and living here, mystery solved." 

"Come on, you ain't even trying to listen," He returned with a grin, "Creepy cabins, hatches and buttons—"

The corners of Juliet's mouth twitched upward slightly for a brief moment. She had been curious, but there were more important matters than picking up the pieces of a long-lost group of people. They were here now, though, and maybe she could find some answers here. Still, it felt strange. She didn't know how them being here would affect the future, if they even should be here.

Jin frowned from the other side of the table. "No mystery. Locke." He cut in, looking between Juliet and Sawyer.

James scoffed. "C'mon Jin, we don't need to be all that serious about it." He waved off Jin's concern easily. Juliet studied his expression, then Jin's. James' charm had its limits, and he could come off as well—an asshole at times.

"Listen Mr. Miyagi, if you wanna get all serious, maybe you should put on another pot of coffee?" He countered, never really being one to get serious.

At the nickname, Jin stood up abruptly and began walking to the hallway.

"James!—" Juliet scolded before she could stop herself, torn between wanting to help and wanting to keep her distance from the group of near-strangers.

"What? It was a joke!" James shook his head. Juliet looked him up and down for a moment. "Some people are so dang sensitive." He mumbled.

At that, Juliet decided she was also done with him and stood up as well.

"Where are you goin', Blondie? Thought you had my back!" He said, half-joking.

"James," she said, her voice more tired than anything, "If you want to be the leader of this group, maybe you should stop making remarks about people." She said calmly. "I'm going to talk to Jin."

James huffed, watching her go. He was painfully aware he had crossed a line, but usually that wasn't met with being scolded. "Can't take a dang joke." He growled under his breath, losing his appetite for coffee and wishing he had another one of those Dharma beers. His gaze lingered on where Juliet had been sitting, coffee unfinished.

His relationships with women were either flirting, conning, or extremely distant. He knew it wasn't healthy, but it was easy. Moving from woman to woman, having a cold beer in-between each encounter, it was easy to not think about them. That is, until the crash forced him into one place. Restlessness set in, and when he wasn't putting on the brief southern charm, all he could think to do was push people away. He had instinctively moved toward Kate, who looked quite the easy target. She matched his banter and, surprisingly, put up with him. His heart ached thinking about her. At first, he pushed her away the second she rejected his advances, but considering there wasn't anywhere else to go, circumstances kept them in close contact.

She was—kind to him. In a way he hadn't felt or even cared for. As much as he had hated to admit it at first, Kate was a friend. Probably the only good one he'd ever had. The only person he felt comfortable being serious around. She knew him, matching each clumsy pick-up-line with a smart remark, but beyond the banter and jokes she _knew_ him. The second she picked up his letter it all crumbled, and James slowly began to realize the tough-guy conman façade wasn't going to pull any wool over her eyes. It had been so long since anyone had really cared—not in the sexually-charged, lustful and passionate way—but in the way only a friend could. It hurt at first, like touching a raw and tender wound, but the sting faded.

'Course, Kate was gone, and it didn't matter. With Juliet, it was like Kate on another level. She had a kind of glassy, tired look in her eyes, like she was always somewhere else. The way she moved, talked, it was so stiff and distant. Instinctively, Sawyer would have moved to her, intrigued by the façade and desperate to play fix-it to her broken heart. It was how he did anything, flash a dimpled grin, make jokes, and avoid any serious conversation. But it sure didn't work on Juliet. It took a while to get her to respond, play back to him like anyone else would, but it was clear her mind was always elsewhere. Apparently, the Others' had a kind of no-fun-allowed rule. Juliet was always so serious, just barely showing a little of her true self before retreating again. It was fascinating, but frustrating.

The house suddenly felt quieter and emptier. Sawyer blinked, suddenly realizing he had zoned out. He surveyed the dark, moonlit house, then stood and stretched. Once Miles was done with his shower, he planned on having one himself to clear his mind.

Juliet quietly made her way down the hallway, pausing at the door of Daniel's bedroom for a moment, before moving forward. She reached another door toward the end, catching the scent of Dharma-brand shampoo coming from under the door. Finally, at the end of the hall, there was a sharp turn to the left, which led somewhat further into the house. She hesitated, then picked up the sound of a creaking floorboard—just barely audible over the ambience outside—from around the corner. Over her time with Ben and his people, Juliet had gotten remarkably good at moving silently and picking up sounds one would not have heard without years of fine-tuning. She was far, far from the otherworldly abilities which everyone else around her had—which infuriated her—but she was thankful for it now.

The hallway was extremely dark, with only a closet door on the left wall (which most likely held a washer and other miscellaneous things) and a bit of glowing moonlight at the end. Juliet followed the light, keeping her steps light and soundless. As she rounded the corner, she was greeted with a screen door layered in front of an iron security door, both slightly ajar, leading into a small screened-in sunroom overlooking a small, fenced-in backyard. Jin sat on a hanging porch-swing, one of many seating options in the sunroom. Quietly, she pushed open both sets of doors, immediately greeted with the sound of a large wooden windchime right outside the sunroom. Jin heard her come in but didn't respond. She made her way through the charmingly small, albeit crowded, porch. A few chairs sat around a glass table, which housed a few small succulents in painted pots. Some more plants, most of them fake or merely decently kept hung from the roof in baskets or sat up against the wall.

Her shadow fell across the wall, long and distorted, as she ventured further toward the other end. She shifted her weight onto a creaking board to gently alert Jin of her presence.

"Hey." She said calmly, suddenly feeling quite empty and exposed. Jin lifted his eyes to her and gave her a polite nod.

Juliet dipped her head for a moment, glancing at the empty side of the porch swing. "Mind if I sit down?"

Jin scooted aside with another nod, and she sat down. She knew a lot about Jin, as she did all the other survivors, yet she didn't really _know _him. There was a long, neutral silence. Juliet felt a bit out of place. Of course, she had always felt that way no matter where she was, but on the island—where the general way of life seemed to be clinging to one group of wanderers or another—she felt even more outcasted. Though, that was more incentive to at least try to make an effort with all of the group's members. Despite her long and complicated history with the survivors, she felt the need to connect with them, especially now that they were all completely out of their element.

She wasn't quite sure what to say, especially since it was obvious to everyone that she was just trying to prevent conflict in an attempt to keep everyone together.

"Quite the strange group we've ended up with." She remarked quietly, then glanced back toward the screen door. "Just our luck, huh?"

Jin took a moment to process her words, then nodded. "Sawyer—" He moved his hands up to gesture along with his speech, trying to find the right words. "He's—good. But—"

"A bit of an ass at times." She finished gently for him, feeling accomplished as he nodded and even smiled slightly in agreement.

"Better when he's not talking." He added.

There was another silence as Juliet debated how to continue.

"I appreciate the company." He ventured slowly, shifting a little where he sat, then turning to meet her eyes. "But you are—were an Other." Juliet feels her heart sink a little, but he's right. She deserves every bit of scorn for her affiliation, whether in the past (or future?) or not.

"I understand," She said gently, letting herself ease into the following silence which somehow felt far less hostile than the last. Though, she felt a pressing matter on her chest. She needed to do more, make it up to him somehow, prove her loyalty through some barbaric stunt as she had always been trained to do. At the same time, she was extremely tired of convincing everyone around her—and herself—that she wasn't 'bad'. Bad people were people and good people were people and nothing about that mattered anymore on this hellhole of an island.

Still, Juliet felt the need to say _something_. "Sun—" she began. However, she was abruptly cut off.

A series of loud voices and what sounded like glass breaking shattered the silence, causing both her and Jin to stand abruptly. The sound came from somewhere nearby, likely just outside the side of the bungalow, and they were moving fast in one direction past the house. The closer they got, the louder the noises became. She and Jin exchanged an extremely worried glance, and both moved quickly back into the hallway, the screen door banging shut behind them. They rounded the corner and almost ran into Miles, who had come clamoring out of the bathroom at the yells.

James was already at the window, quickly joined by Juliet and everyone else, excluding Daniel. They had arrived just in time as loud yells and hollers came just out of sight. Laughing and whooping and what sounded like a group of young people—teenagers, most likely—rapidly making their way down the sidewalk.

Two figures, followed by two more, quickly came streaking into view on the pathway. At the head of the group was a teenage girl in somewhat-raggedy hiking gear with her hair tied back, her three male partners dressed in similar garb. The lead girl was the first to fish out a small pebble from her pouch, turning and tossing it at a nearby house and smashing one of the terracotta pots on the doorstep. She laughed loudly, tossing another stone and then heading toward another house. The other hooligans did the same, making racket, smashing pots and windows. They were quickly pursued by another group of alarmed Dharma folk, some emerging from their houses at the racket and others attempting to chase them.

"What the heck?" James growled, watching the situation unfold.

Juliet blinked, just as shocked as anyone. She and James exchanged a glance.

"Teenage hippies?" Ventured Miles, watching as Phil, the last to begin chasing the group, disappeared around the corner.

Jin shook his head. "Others."

They were dressed in raggedy clothes, but if this was some kind of attack—why now? They just worked something out with Richard, hadn't they? The sounds of clattering objects and yells and hollers faded slightly, echoing throughout the narrow alleys of the barracks.

Juliet was the first to the door, James quickly on her heels. "Where do ya think you're goin', Nancy Drew?" He called, reaching out to stop her, but the door had already been opened. Everyone filed quickly out of the house, the door swinging haphazardly shut behind them. James broke ahead of Juliet, jumping onto the sidewalk and running forward, dodging bits of broken glass and terracotta on the pathway. Unlike the Others' barracks, these had many, many more houses and far more narrow, winding alleyways between said houses. However, it was rather easy to follow the noise of the commotion.

Finally, they arrived at another open area containing the welcome building and the gazebo. One of the hooligans dove behind the welcome building, where the grassy lawn sloped steeply downward to a small cluster of greenery. The three others split up and ran further into the barracks, about as quick as James had seen any kids run. He froze, unsure of which direction to go.

Suddenly, Phil darted past him, heading for the welcome building, he dove around the other side and lopsidedly made his way down the hill.

"What is going on? Why are we out here?" Miles began, though he was abruptly cut off as James followed hot on Phil's heels. "Where are you going?!"

James rounded the corner behind the building, immediately having to lean back in order to keep from slipping. The downward slope was covered with a thick carpet of grass, slick and slippery with dew. He spotted a few bare spots of ground among the greenery and made his way down the slope, hitting the patch of forest and diving underneath fern fronds and tree branches. However, as soon as he reached the sound of voices, he had to duck down to avoid a small rock flying through the air, just barely missing him. There was a surge of voices yelling and a clatter of things hitting the ground. Suddenly, a pistol slid across the grass from the source of the commotion.

James grabbed the pistol, probably dropped in some kind of struggle, and moved forward.

"You're under arrest!" Shrieked Phil, who was standing at the base of a young banyan tree, wielding a large stick. In the boughs of the banyan, the teenage girl grinned mischievously, taunting him.

"What are you gonna do, hit me with a stick? Where's your handcuffs?" She tucked back some of her wild, kinky-curly hair and spryly moved from branch to branch like an experienced jungle-dweller, in another tree and on the ground before Phil could even react. Face red with rage, the gaunt security officer tried his best to take off after her, running headlong into the range of a flying rock, hitting him square in the forehead. Further in the greenery, the girl backed up a dirt slope, loading small rocks into her pouch from the ground and into her hand from her pouch. Another rock, just barely missing Phil's head, whizzed by and landed at James' feet. He glanced at Phil, comically helpless, and the girl, who despite her rock-throwing wasn't very threatening—before deciding to intercept.

"Don't you jungle-people have something better to do than beat up hippies?" He said gruffly, only half attempting to be threatening. The girl looked up, eyes flickering with surprise at the pistol in his hands and backed up further into the greenery.

"No," she responded with a cheeky grin, before turning to dart forward into the ferns.

James turned to face Phil, pulling the lanky security officer to his feet with ease. Phil, however, didn't spare so much as a 'thank you' before he wrestled away and ran after the girl.

James made his way quickly back to the top, breaking out onto a path and spotting a few more people running around the corner. He followed them, and arrived at the edge of the houses, overlooking the surrounding meadow. Four figures were already halfway across the expanse of tall grass, heading for the fence most likely. Those chasing them slowed as the teenagers disappeared into the treeline and out of reach.

Juliet looked around, exchanging extremely confused glances with the rest of her party. Her eyes met James'. "First, they threw flaming spears, now they send delinquents to throw rocks?" He remarked as he approached, and Juliet glanced toward the far end of the Barracks, gaze lingering thoughtfully on where the troublemakers had disappeared into the treeline. Her thoughts were broken by footsteps, followed by the sound of someone tripping on the pavement, sounding from behind her.

The group of survivors turned to see Horace picking himself up off the ground and dusting himself off, glancing nervously about. "I didn't expect them to come here tonight," he remarked, half to himself.

"'Suppose you wanna get your kids under control, Chief? Seeing as they just made a beeline for the 'Big Scary Jungle'." Sawyer remarked as he sauntered forward.

Horace looked up, running a hand though his hair and smiling nervously. "I—uh—my apologies. I didn't think they'd be back tonight…" He fidgeted with his jumpsuit and re-adjusted his glasses, taking a moment to catch his breath. "They aren't ours, though—they're, uh—they're from another group."

"Richard's sending some rock-throwing teenagers at you now? I didn't think we'd cause that much trouble." The tall southern man managed to mask the sarcasm in his voice, but he turned to meet Juliet's eyes and raised his eyebrows to her in a kind of 'this is the stupidest thing I've ever had to deal with' way. Juliet rolled her eyes and was unable to suppress a smirk.

"No, no—Richard's not—They're not a part of his group, uh, they're from somewhere else. Not either of us." The mathematician gestured vaguely in the direction of the jungle.

Everyone was silent for a moment. "What—you mean there's _other_ others?" Miles spoke up, immediately turning to Juliet, who shrugged.

"Yeah, erm we didn't really—didn't really anticipate a bunch of different groups…" Horace laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "But yeah, they've been coming around for a few weeks now, every few days. They run around and break things and make a scene and then leave," he sighed, and then quietly added, "…even when Paul—he was our Head of Security—was around there wasn't much to do about it."

"Nothing a few bullets can't fix." James huffed, unable to contain his disgruntlement at the absurdity of the situation. _They can't be serious; nobody is this helpless._ Though, this was the island…

"How old could they possibly be? No more than 18. Just go tell their parents." Miles remarked.

Horace looked at the both of them. "I—we'd prefer to do this _without_ violence. And we don't have very good—actually we don't have _any_ communications with whatever group they're a part of. We've tried everything. Following them, asking them nicely…" 

"What about trapping them?" Suggested Juliet, causing everyone to turn to look at her. "Non-violently, of course," she added, "but maybe just to scare them off."

"Oh, well I mean—yeah we could try that." Horace responded, seeming rather open to the suggestion. He dipped his head a little sheepishly. "Again, I'm sorry for involving you in this, it's our own fault." He said apologetically. "But I need to go and help survey the damage, you're welcome to go back to your house though."

"We can help." Juliet said, gently following Horace. "I don't mind."

Horace blinked, then smiled. "Oh! Well, you really don't have to, that's awful nice of you. There's a few houses that could probably use fixing up, just be careful though!" With that, he began walking toward a small group of people gathered around a broken window.

James walked forward and grabbed Juliet's arm before she could venture forward as well. "What do you think 'yer doin', Mother Teresa? I thought you wanted to leave." 

"Don't be selfish," she chided gently, only half-joking, "if they need help, they need help. If you want, you can look at it from the angle we're winning them over."

"I think they'll be fine without us. Say we go back to the house and try and figure out what to do next?"

"Take a good look at Horace and tell me you think he's capable of running this joint." Miles said, gesturing toward the area he had disappeared to.

Juliet frowned, but was inclined to agree. "It's polite, at the very least. And we might meet people who'd like to talk to us."

James watched her carefully, hesitating before he boldly pushed forward, "You seem awful inclined to help Horace. You know him? Was he one of 'yer people in the future?"

The blonde's brows knitted immediately, though she was used to being accused at this point. She kept her voice low and calm, but there was hesitation in her tone and a look in her eyes that wavered her credibility. "No."

Jin stepped concernedly between them, breaking the tension. "I'll help." He stated firmly, moving closer to Juliet. James sighed and followed them through the barracks.

Miles tagged behind as they continued to walk around, looking for places they could help. Most people didn't seem to mind or even notice their presence, though he couldn't help feeling awkward. He let himself lag behind them slightly, trying to take a moment to breathe without constantly being surrounded by a group. 

The night air on the island was always thick and humid, filled with the chirps of crickets. He'd always hated the heat. Suddenly, he felt a flash of cold down his spine and froze on the spot.

Dread prickled his skin as he felt the prodding of a nearby presence—_very _nearby. He turned, facing one of the undamaged houses. The lights were off, and the doors and curtains were shut, though windchimes happily sang on the eaves. He frowned, studying the house, before feeling another rush. The 'visions' usually came on in waves depending on how close he was to the source, more feelings and whispers than actual visuals. He felt a pull toward the house, heard ringing in his ears, smelled gunpowder. He shivered, forgetting temporarily where he was and exactly what he was doing there. All he could focus on was the barrage of disjointed memories and thoughts and feelings forcing their way into his consciousness. He winced a little, feeling the throbbing of the tension headache that usually came with receiving such visions. He hovered on the spot, unsure if he should lean into the presence or try and pull himself back.

Before he could become fully enveloped in the sensations, they receded suddenly. Miles stumbled slightly, coming to his senses once more. Realizing where he was and that he probably got separated from the group, he turned around to head back, immediately running into Juliet. His chest tightened a little. _Had she seen? _He didn't want anyone from Ben's group knowing anything about him—whether they had defected or not. Though, he didn't have the energy to bristle at her.

"Miles?" She asked, concern lacing her voice. He looked her up and down skeptically, trying to gauge how much she had seen and how much he could downplay it. She was genuine, he could tell, but he was perplexed as to why. First Daniel, now him. Maybe it was some way to get their trust so she could get information—

"Are you alright?" The suspicion dissipated, and Miles' shoulders slumped slightly, deciding he didn't have the energy to fight concern right now. Back on the freighter he'd shrug off any vulnerability and hope everyone would forget about it, but here it was so much harder.

"I'm fine." He said tiredly. "Just… got turned around."

Juliet nodded and looked at that house behind him, frowning. "It gives me a bad feeling too." She admitted, gaze lingering on the darkened windows.

"You saw—" He took a breath, trying to collect himself, swearing internally.

Juliet glanced over her shoulder. The pathway was empty except for the two of them and the crickets chirping in the bushes. "It's alright Miles, I know. Kate told me." He released a breath he was holding, thinking back to when he had read Naomi after she had died. "Weirder things have happened here." She added, shrugging.

He sighed and threw up his hands in surrender. "Y-yeah, some place run by what's-his-face and a bunch of potheads has a few dead people. Big surprise." He tried brushing it off. Juliet nodded.

"Maybe you should go back to the house." Juliet prodded gently, turning to look over her shoulder as a few silhouettes walked across the adjacent path, their footsteps fading as quickly as they had appeared.

Miles stiffened. He was torn between accusing her of acting or getting angry at her concern, too tired to do either. However, what she said next knocked him off completely.

"Maybe Daniel is awake, I don't want him to be alone in the house." She said, lowering her gaze. _Daniel_, Miles remembered, feeling a jolt of guilt for forgetting about him. Daniel was an air-headed, rambling idiot—sure—but he sure wasn't going to leave Mr. Science alone and delirious. Miles collected his thoughts and nodded, beginning to walk past Juliet back the way they had come.

"Yeah—you're right. If you don't need me to help clean up—"

"I'd feel a lot better while cleaning knowing that Daniel wasn't by himself." She smiled her thanks and turned to go her own way back.

Juliet set off at a brisk walk down the winding sidewalk, scanning her surroundings in an attempt to get her bearings. She tried to remain as calm as she could on the outside, despite the fact that the further she walked the more she realized the barracks were completely different than present-day. They were confusing and crowded before, of course, but in a different way. The clustered mass of half-rotten, poorly kept shacks sat on a flat, grassy plateau surrounded by rolling grassy hills, which sloped up on all sides to meet a circular road that ran all the way around the inner circumference of the compound. On the outer shoulder of the road was a thick ring of jungle—and beyond that, the fence. The houses were far, far less. She recognized some areas, like a small cluster of knee-height white fencing surrounding a statue of a canid-looking creature, which sat among neatly trimmed flowers. However, she only recognized it because in present day, someone had accidentally broken the head off of the statue while moving furniture, revealing a hollow inside. Further inspection revealed a lot of small, decaying plastic bags hidden inside the dark inner cavity. Juliet never found out what exactly was in the bags, but she did know everyone was very, very quiet afterwards.

Curiously, she approached the statue and put her ear close to the body, giving it a gentle tap from the other side. It certainly sounded hollow. The basic structure of the barracks, including the circular road and the rolling meadow surrounding the hilltop, remained the same. However, it was far less decrepit. Thankfully, a lot of the pathways were still the same, and Juliet was able to circle around and find James collecting terracotta shards into a bag. She crouched down at his feet to observe the sad-looking succulent which had been dislodged from the soil.

"Think we'll be able to save it?" She asked with a small smile, looking up as her friend put the last dirt-colored shards into the bag.

"Save it for compost, maybe." He kicked it dismissively into the dirt on the side of the porch, where it was hidden by the equally sad ferns and leaves. Juliet stood up and walked around him to where an empty bag lay, scooping up a small pile of rock shards off of the porch.

James put his hands on his hips and turned to look at Horace, who stood nearby, half-inside another house. "So, your brilliant idea is to put us on cleanup duty to impress Our Glorious Leader?"

"You could always sit down and not do anything."

James scoffed, and despite his attitude he bent to help Juliet dislodge a large piece of wood from the dirt. "Well, that wouldn't be very fun, now would it? 'Sides, a little charity work never hurt anyone."

"I'm glad you're being nice, James. I hope you're glad we now have an _actual_ mystery the solve."

James raised his eyebrows. "So now we're in business, huh?" He dusted some dirt off himself, wishing he had stayed inside for a shower. Then again, he'd rather be sweaty and bantering than posh and alone. 

Juliet stood as well, catching his eye. "You were wondering how we'd ever get off 'house arrest', and now something just drops into our lap."

"Like they're going to come up to us ship-wreckers and give us all their information." He returned, rolling his eyes.

The blonde smiled knowingly. "Just wait and see. Horace took a liking to you, and judging by everyone else here…" Her voice trailed off as she surveyed the rest of the residents moving to clean up their little neighborhood. They glanced at the newcomers, unsure, but not too concerned. Juliet recognized a familiar figure following the winding pathways to an open house. Amy stepped aside to let two men carry out a broken table, then stepped in front of the door. Horace peeked out of the doorframe, smiling nervously as she talked to him.

"You think we're the more competent ones?" James prodded, ducking to avoid Juliet jokingly swatting him with another empty bag.

"Be _nice_, you know that's not what I mean. They think we're experienced in this kind of thing." 

"Like we're some kind of jungle-jumpin' superheroes? Just 'cause we said we're from a ship?"

"To them we are." Juliet continued coolly with a shrug. "Though, you'd have to ask Horace." She nodded vaguely behind him. James rolled his eyes, turning around to humor her, and then swirling around straight into Horace himself. His hand, presumably cut on broken glass, had been sloppily bandaged. Phil stood at his heels, a large knot forming on his forehead. Is

"Hello," the Dharma resident greeted with a nervous smile. "I—uh—not to interrupt—I know you're probably _really _worn out—but, I do have a question to ask…"

Suddenly, he steps past James, and turns his gaze straight to Juliet. "What did you mean by trapping them?..."

Juliet's eyes flash briefly with surprise, her gaze immediately meeting James'. She opens her mouth to speak, but hesitates before she does, taking a moment to regain her cool composure. "I mean setting up a kind of trap for the next time they come back. They're just kids, I think just being caught is enough to make them stop. That is, if you're asking for advice." She explained calmly.

Horace blinked. "That makes sense." He continued to not acknowledge James, and took another step toward the blonde, lowering his voice. "Thank you—for helping, I mean—I know we haven't been the most hospitable, but you understand, don't you?" He went on in earnest.

James couldn't help but bristle slightly. Juliet had gone and turned on Others Mode again, and now she stared calm and blank, co

nversing with Horace. He tried to catch her eye, but she was set on putting on _that_ act. It made him angry—not _just _because he was jealous, though that was another reason—that she could just go back to the way she had been trained in the blink of an eye. He told himself it was because it made him question her alliance—though really, he hated to see the soulful, hopeful Juliet he had come to favor being shoved out of sight once more.

"Of course, I understand. And you've been more than welcoming, considering the circumstances." She replied calmly, almost robotically. _The way she speaks… Jesus, she almost sounds like Ben, _James thought, shifting uncomfortably.

Horace then suddenly seemed to notice James' presence. "Oh! James—err—_Jim_, I was looking for you. Thanks for saving Phil." The lanky man behind him bristled with silent fury, glaring a hole into the back of Horace's head.

"'Course, nothing to it." He deflected, wanting to stay as far away from Phil as possible.

"Where's the other three?" Horace continued, spinning on his heels to survey the people finishing their cleaning.

"Daniel and Miles are at the house." Juliet said. "And Jin…" Her voice trailed, looking to James for an answer.

"—Went to help with a window." He continued.

Horace smiled suddenly. "You two seem to get along." He started brightly, seeming to forget about the still-writhing chaos of startled residents behind him, "Are you two—"

"No." Juliet cut across, so quickly and coldly it almost made James jump. He caught her eye briefly, flinching at the icy blankness that still lingered. _Snap out of it, Blondie. _She seemed to catch the message, letting the tension bleed from her shoulders. A nervous smiled sneaked onto her face. "No, no—but I can understand the confusion."

"Yes—I certainly _am _irresistible," James picked up smoothly, feeling relieved slightly as Horace laughed as well.

"Of course, my mistake." He said, still beaming as he looked from one of them to the other.

Juliet wanted to sink into the ground. _How did I know he would ask that?_… She was torn between being angry at herself for taking off the mask and being angry at herself for putting it back on. It felt automatic. When she bantered and joked, it felt _right, _it felt human. But she couldn't help hearing Ben's voice somewhere in her head: _You let your guard down, _he would snarl coldly, _how could you be so stupid? Don't say I didn't warn you when they take the opportunity to take advantage of you, and then get rid of you._ She stiffened, feeling her hands ball up into fists. As infuriated as he made her, she couldn't help but wonder if he was right.

Juliet barely even noticed as Horace continued babbling, and James subtly took a step closer to her, trying to catch her eye. The fury burned out into an icy cold ball of unease that shattered over her head, sending shards of stinging cold across her skin. She managed enough to not jerk back suddenly, but calmly moved a step away. He seemed to understand, at least.

"—and with all the wildlife, it's really hard to focus on everything else. You know, when we ran off that wild cat—" continued the Dharma Mayor, still beaming.

Juliet lifted her gaze as something white crossed the clearing. She looked up and saw a woman in a pristine white lab coat stop abruptly in the middle of the chaos. She had a short, shoulder-length bob of dark brown hair and round coke-bottle glasses almost the size of her head. The short woman spun on her heels, clasping a clipboard close to her chest as she surveyed the damages. Suddenly, her eyes met Juliet's. _Does she know we're not one of them?_

Her heart skipped a beat as the woman looked her over, adjusted her glasses, and started toward them. She elbowed James sharply, and he looked up.

"That one of 'yer science people?"

Horace turned, his face falling as the woman headed straight for him.

"Molly! I didn't know you were—"

"_Dr. Cunningham!" _The woman corrected shrilly, marching straight up to Horace. They stood face-to-face, though she was even shorter than he was. Despite her height, she was sizzling with fury. "You said you'd handle this!" She yelled, continuing to gesture wildly at her surroundings. "_And_ we've talked about _this!" _This time, she pointed directly to James.

"Hold 'yer horses Scully, what's the issue?" James butted in, stepping between the two.

Molly balled her hands up into fists. "See?! This is why you don't pick up random people out of the jungle."

Horace crossed his arms and frowned. "I didn't pick them out of the jungle. _They_ saved one of our members from the Hostiles and are helping us. They're valuable assets."

Juliet and James exchanged a glance. _What?_ Mouthed James, and Juliet couldn't help but smirk.

"Don't tell me they're _staying, _you told me we've been having issues—that _you_ said you'd fix—and now—"

"I am too fixing them." Horace insisted, thought he began to fidget with the sleeves of his jumpsuit. "Pierre made me the manager for a reason." Then, he nodded toward Juliet. "We're planning right now, aren't we?"

Before Juliet had a chance to say anything, Molly spun to face her, as if seeing her for the first time.

"And you are?" She demanded hotly, glaring up at the much taller, much less angry Juliet.

"Juliet. We're part of a shipwrecked crew." She answered, taking a step back as James stepped forward.

"Leave her alone, sweet-cheeks." He drawled, glaring down at the scientist, who was unmatched in her spite. "We ain't involved in any of this, all we did was save some girl from the Jungle Crew and we got ourselves a place to look for the rest of our people."

Molly got right up in his face. "You're very involved, according to Horace. What exactly are you planning?"

Horace gently tugged on the sleeve of her lab coat, wanting to de-escalate. Suddenly, she whirled on him, shoving the clipboard in his face. "_Thirty _incidents since January! They threw _eggs _on the computers!"

"We're fixing it!" Horace fired back, realizing a scene was being made. "They helped us chase them off and suggested a plan. _And _they volunteered to help clean up without being asked."

"They're doing the things your _security _should be doing!" She snapped, pointing directly at Phil, who raised his hands defensively.

"Listen lady, I don't—"

"Half of our security team is dead." Horace went on earnestly, his eyes suddenly filling with emotion, voice quieting. "And we would have lost another if it weren't for _them."_

Molly did not look at all affected, instead sighing and throwing up her hands in defeat. "Fine. Have it your way. You are the _mayor_, and I'm just a scientist." With that, she spun around with a dramatic flap of her lab-coat and stomped off.

"Jesus, the quality control here is…." Juliet started, exchanging another glance with James, who grinned.

"Dharma mystery indeed."

Horace blinked, then sighed. "I'm sorry, she's—she's one of Pierre's assistants, I believe." He looked up at the ship-wreckers. "Thank you, really, I don't know what would have happened—I mean, if you weren't there…" His gaze drifted to Amy, who stood hugging herself next to one of the houses. Another, older woman stepped out of the house with a broken window and went to talk to her. She seemed nice enough, tugging a bathrobe around herself and putting a hand on the younger woman's shoulder.

"We're glad to help, but we don't want to get you in trouble." Juliet said calmly.

"You're not getting me in trouble, I'm—I'm not in trouble." Horace smiled and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jumpsuit. "We just aren't very organized yet, but don't worry!"

"I ain't worried, believe me," breathed James, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Juliet caught his eye once more, and this time they both smiled.

The bright, eye-searing fluorescent lights of the upper chamber of the security office continued to flicker and buzz dully. The security building was extremely small on the outside, barely half the size of a typical bungalow. Inside, one was greeted with a small l-shaped room, sporting two large iron doors at the back, behind the reception desk. In the smaller branch of the room was a seating area and a door leading into the other side of the building—a small one-room office. The "office" contained several small desks with phones and typewriters, with unmarked file cabinets and shelves living the wall. The desktops were covered in stacks of paper and abandoned, half-full coffee mugs. The room was devoid of windows except for a large one-way window looking into the reception, and on the other side, several small brick-sized windows up against the ceiling on the opposite wall.

Though the bright white lights were overpowering, the darkness outside was giving way to a thin band of bright pink creeping up from the horizon, just barely peeking through the small windows. A group consisting of Horace, Miles, Jin, Juliet, James, and Phil had gathered in the small room to converse. Though several metal fans blared loudly from the top of the filing cabinets, the room as stiflingly hot and humid, so much so that beads of condensation had formed on the inside windowpanes.

Juliet had seated herself on one of the emptier desks, careful not to disturb the stacks of paper sitting nearby. She knew it wasn't any of her business, but Dharma would at least have the sense to put away their private information, right? She let her gaze drift over the top sheet of paper, which was mostly obscured by a scribbled-on envelope.

"INCIDENT REPORT (PAGE THREE OF THREE, ADDENDUM FOUR)- 'SUBJECT 13 HEAD COLLAPSE'

JULY 13th, 1974

-, the situation was handled accordingly, and further actions are being taken to prevent such an event in the future. The amount of witnesses was substantially low, but ideally there would be none. Our main offices suggest more quality control, and a rescheduling of the most recent future inspection. They also suggested another cadaver dog be added to the K9 unit, but—"

Frowning, she moved to tug the corner of the paper to see the rest of the paragraph, but she stopped as James leaned up against the desk next to her.

"You gonna start planning, or should I?" He prodded, nodding to where Horace was looking at their group in earnest.

Juliet shifted nervously. "Anything we say should be taken with a grain of salt, we've only experienced these kids once, and barely know anything about them."

"Exactly," Phil cut her off, crossing his arms, "they don't know anything—and this is the third time they've targeted _me _specifically."

"Maybe there's a problem with you, then?" Jabbed Miles, who had been upset with the current conditions and was therefore snappier.

Phil's eyes flashed for a moment, and he looked as if he threatened to step forward but shrunk back with a sniff as James rose to his feet.

Juliet's eyes fell on Jin, who had been quiet. She had a feeling he hadn't simply gone to fix a window when they had split up. Though she was good at it, and very accurate, she hated to read people. It felt like invading their privacy. Jin, however, was practically bleeding tension, and she made a mental note to check up on him later.

Horace raised his hand tentatively, trying to deescalate. "Easy, easy—it's fine. We—we'll figure it out, I'm sure." He waited for everyone to quiet, then sighed.

"Do you mean a physical trap? As in, a net?" He questioned.

Juliet turned to James. He had taken initiative getting them in here, at least. But everyone was silent—and looking at _her_. She shifted uncomfortably, becoming suddenly aware she was the only one being asked.

"James. What do _you _think?" She started, holding his gaze calmly.

He seemed shocked that she asked, rearing back slightly. James looked her over, trying to decide exactly what she was trying to do. It wasn't that he didn't _trust _her, but—It was complicated. However, there wasn't time to argue now, when there was an audience.

"I don't know, I'm not the one being asked," he continued letting a bit of his jealousy at having Juliet being favored seep out. He crossed his arms and looked away before he could see her reaction. His mind ran, unsure of how to handle this. _I got us in, what else does she want? Is she trying to dig me into more lies?_

Juliet's eyes flashed with brief surprise, but there was no time and no room to bite back—she had to just pick it up and run with it. Before any emotions could wash over her fully, she formed a response.

"Well, we'd have to take a look at how they operate. I know they certainly aren't a complicated, highly-planned group—but it would be helpful. By what I've seen, they come in and exit from the same general area. If they do that every time, we could potentially place a trap where they cross the expanse between the jungle and the houses. In that case, physical trap." She felt the mask slip gradually back into place, though she was thankful it was on before she could feel hurt.

Horace brightened. "That could work! As far as I know, they come in and out from the same place—but we could check the security tapes. And if they do it the same way every time, we could place a trap."

Miles, who was getting bored, slumped up against a filing cabinet. "We can use Phil as bait."

Before Phil had a moment to respond, noises sounded from the half-open door to the reception. Juliet looked up as someone else crossed the doorway, a short, stocky hunch-backed man with long sandy hair, pushing a janitor's cart. She caught the labels of 'Roger' and 'Workman' on his jumpsuit.

"Oh, sorry Roger," Horace said quickly, "I forgot you were scheduled here—"

"I ain't, but after this last 'incident', some asshole asked me to pick up his shift." He growled, scanning the group.

Juliet started suddenly as their eyes met, her heart catching briefly in her throat. Another strange side effect of being an Other, getting _feelings_ about people. Not even something specific—just a feeling. This was a very bad, bad feeling—but she tried her best not to let it show as Roger ventured a step into the office.

"'Suppose these are our new recruits?" He continued. Even James seemed to be made uncomfortable.

"Easy Chief, we're just helping a man out with some… business."

"Better than 'yer dang security," Roger went on, spinning to face Horace, who blinked obliviously.

James eyed the shorter Roger, who seemed to be hostile to everyone, it seemed. "What, you got any advice?"

"Yeah, actually. Shoot 'em."

Horace burst into nervous laughter. "R-Roger, we don't need to—"

Roger put up his hands defensively, and it became very obvious he wasn't kidding.

"You can't just shoot children, 'workman'." Shot Miles, who seemed the least uncomfortable of all of them.

Roger took a few steps toward him. "My name isn't 'work-man.'" He began to stay something derogatory, but before he could Miles stood abruptly. Horace stepped between them, still trying to calm everyone.

"Okay, okay—let's just cool it everyone! Please, there's nothing to get upset about," he went on, trying to gently shoo Roger away.

James blinked, and then sat back down, eyes on the janitor. "It ain't the worst idea," he shrugged.

Juliet turned to glare at him. "James!—" she scolded.

"_Hey, _all I'm sayin' is that it's the easiest way. That don't mean I want to shoot a kid." He turned, speaking directly to her now. She hesitated for a split second, wondering if he was purposely trying to intimidate her.

Deciding she wouldn't take the chance, Juliet stood up to face him. "Nobody's shooting anyone, truce or not. They're just kids, the worst they've brought is eggs and rocks—it isn't going to be hard to handle this _peacefully_."

Roger backed up a step, scoffing as he swayed on his feet. He looked between the two of them. 

"Can't make up 'yer dang mind."

He began heading slowly to the doorway, but before he did, he spun on his heels to face James.

"If you stick around, maybe we could have a beer sometime." He said, waving a hand amicably. Even James seemed surprised by the offer. Before he could respond, however, Roger grabbed his janitor cart and moved out of sight.

Juliet, still bristling, kept her eyes firmly on James.

James spared a quick glance in Horace's direction. He felt a pang of anger in his heart, yearning to suddenly snap. He couldn't look like a dang idiot in front of, well—the point was that he couldn't let his guard down. Not even here. _Especially_ not here. Still, a part of him held back as he went to stare at Juliet. She faced him with a glare that could curdle milk, meeting his eyes without a single moment of hesitation. He bristled, torn between showing her up to make an impression and trying to work this out. _What's her issue? Why is she so dang concerned?_

"Listen, Chief, I never said we were gonna shoot 'em. You really think I'd do that to a kid? I'm glad you trust me that much, Barbie!" He was aware all eyes were on them but couldn't stop himself.

"James." She cut across him in _that_ voice, the one that made his heart stop. For a moment, he was taken back to the Hydra, when they first met. He flinched, wondering exactly how much they trusted each other.

Suddenly, Jin stepped between them, turning to face James. "Leave her alone." He said, voice still wavering with unfamiliarity.

Juliet blinked, surprised. She wasn't used to people doing that, protecting her. And Jin…. After everything her people have done to him, he stepped forward. Still, she sensed his unease, and realized she needed to just let the situation go until they were alone. They couldn't do this in front of Horace.

Gently, she pushed past Jin, and turned to speak to James.

"I'm sorry, I never meant to imply that." She stepped forward, lowering her voice. "You _know_ that's not what I meant, but we can't start this here."

He held her gaze unwaveringly for a few moments, and she could see the gears turning in his mind. Finally, he sighed, turning away.

"Fine. I'm going outside, you do the plannin', Oh Great Huntress." He pushed past her and walked out of the door and out of sight.

Juliet pushed down her anger, realizing she was now the only leader in the room. All eyes fell upon her once more. She felt the familiar twinge of fear and nervousness that came with being the center of attention. In Othersville, that was always the _last _thing she wanted to be. But she was aware all the responsibility was now on her, and even if James was being—well, a dick—she wasn't going to kick him out of their group just for that.

Someone stepped up next to her, and she realized Miles was standing beside her. "Let's look at the cameras, and then place a trap."

Juliet blinked at him, then smiled.

"Of course," began Horace, adjusting his glasses, "we can view the tapes downstairs, and then start planning." With that, he turned and walked out of the door, leading the way into the reception and pushing open one of the iron doors, revealing stairs leading downward.

It took a moment for Miles' eyes to adjust to the darkness as he drifted to the very back of the procession. A concrete staircase appeared in front of him, leading down into a hallway. Carefully, he felt for a rail, but his hand only met the cool concrete walls. The stairwell was shrouded in darkness, but another bright fluorescent light flickered at the very bottom. Miles watched the rest of the group make their way down the stairs, following quietly behind him. He felt the familiar pull of introversion, wanting to fall as far back from people as he could. Ever since _that _vision, he felt ice-cold dread prickling down his spine throughout the morning. It only got worse when what's-his-face—_Work Man_—came around.

_Of all the decades I could have been back in. _

Each step was slower and more hesitant than the last, partly because he was descending further into the darkness, and partly because the voices up ahead grated more and more on his anxieties. He reached the final step, his boot hovering over the concrete floor of the hallway, as he looked up to nervously take in his surroundings.

That's when he felt it—a hot, stinging pseudo-pain in the back of his head. He winced, reaching up to rub the back of his head. As his hand contacted the back of his head, he froze—swearing he felt a drop of blood. He drew back his hand, but there wasn't anything there. The pain blossomed until it was white-hot, and Miles leaned back against the cool concrete wall. His legs tensed, and he could feel them struggling to keep him upright. The smooth concrete covered with icy droplets of condensation helped to ground him slightly, but the burning heat grew and grew.

_God—this is the last place I want this to happen._ Every thought was slurred, his internal monologue being muddled with someone else's, like a kind of interference. He felt his consciousness slipping, and he knew he was screwed when he couldn't even feel the cool underground air, as it had given way to hot, sticky, oppressively heavy jungle air. He hated the loss of control, the physical feelings, and he knew the more this consumed him the harder it would be to get out—

'_I shouldn't have come into the jungle—it was a stupid idea—I just wanted to explore—I didn't want to end up like this._

Strained voices, yelling, rough hands pushing and shoving and grabbing, twisting in tangled, dirty locks of brown hair. A woman's sob pierced the air, silencing the singing birds.

"_Please—don't do this—I won't tell, I promise—"_ Her cries were cut short by the cold sensation of a gun barrel pressing into the back of her scalp.

_I'm sorry.'_

Before Miles could hear the _click_ of the gun, he felt a sudden ice-cold sensation pour over his face and soak his shirt. At first, he thought he was drowning, but the rush of cold water thankfully snapped him back to reality.

"What's wrong with you, Phil?!"

"I was waking him up, _you're welcome_."

"Do you want him to go into shock? _Stand back_." Juliet's voice entered the conversation, sounding slightly irritated for once. Miles grimaced, taking in the blurry surroundings.

"I pass out for one dang second—and you're already fighting over me." Miles managed, though not as smooth as he liked. He shoved himself to his feet, wanting to stand before someone offered a hand.

Before anyone could ask, Miles' hands flew up dismissively. "I'm _fine_, don't anybody worry about it."

"Not like I was worried in the first place." Snapped Phil, trying to regain his dignity, though nobody was listening to him at this point.

Juliet, however, wasn't going to take this 'I'm fine' business as easily as everyone else, he could tell by the way she sternly caught his eye. _Don't try it. Not here. _He tried to convey with a glance, before shouldering past Horace before any more questions were asked of him. He squinted, getting a good view of the room before him.

The double iron doors, fitted with tiny square windows, opened into a small, dreary-looking concrete box of a room. On the opposite wall were nine screens embedded into some kind of wood-painted cheap framing, which matched the messy, half-assed looking panels of buttons and switches that sat in front of the wall. On the screens were fuzzy, monochrome, teal-tinted views of several areas around the barracks. However, the night-vision was—as typical of the Barracks, it seemed—not amazing quality, and didn't show much more than a few waving ferns and leaves in the foreground, and a light-colored smudge that was apparently the sidewalk.

Another man in a Dharma jumpsuit spun around in one of the cheap office chairs in front of the monitors to face them, having apparently not heard the commotion. Miles' eyes drifted to the man's hand, which held a half-eaten brownie. _That would explain it. _Miles raised his eyes to the security emblem on his suit, reading the name Jerry branded underneath it.

Jerry stared blank and unfocused, taking more than a few minutes to process what was happening.

"Didn't mean to interrupt, erm—" Horace began, and then faltered nervously. He stepped into Miles' line of sight, quickly holding up some kind of rag. "Here—"

Miles, feeling the pressure of being completely surrounded more and more, itching to get away from all the attention. He begrudgingly accepted the rag and tried his face half-heartedly, still taking around the room.

Phil had shouldered unsympathetically past Miles, slipping behind Jerry and stuffing the remaining brownies into the pocket of his jumpsuit before anyone else saw.

Juliet was the last to step in, but she could barely keep her eyes off Miles. Her chest felt tight, but she knew everything was depending on her right now. Between James, keeping up the façade, Miles, Daniel at home, Jin acting weird—_it's my fault for getting involved. If I had taken my chance and left when I could—_She stopped the selfish though before it fully formed, feeling guilt hit her like a truck. She took a breath, steadying herself, trying to assure herself the thought had not come from her—it was from _him_, and all she had to do was ignore it.

'_You haven't even lasted a week without wasting all your time and energy caring about people who despise you.' _The voice almost sounded empathetic, in a sick way._ 'Take one look at them and tell me they're going to repay it. Miles looks like he just wants to getl away from you.'_

_If I had left, I'd still worry about them. Even more so. If I left, I could never have lived with myself. _She bit back, trying to somehow force the thoughts away.

'_That doesn't sound healthy at all. In fact, I'd say you're just clinging to them. God knows why,' _He started to sound realer by the second.

"Get out of my head." She demanded under her breath, gritting her teeth with the effort.

"Huh?"

She had only realized she had said it out loud—though barely audible, thank god—as 'Jerry' spun in his chair to face her with blown-out pupils and very, very red eyes.

"Nothing," Juliet breathed, stepping forward. The room was cold and made her feel closed in, for once she longed for the hot jungle air. She made her way toward the monitors, then let her gaze drift to the colorful dials and buttons on the panel below.

"Okay!" Horace called cheerily from somewhere she couldn't see, suddenly coming out of a door on one side of the room that she hadn't noticed before, carrying a tape. "This has both the last two incidents on it."

"Let's look at tonight's first," Juliet advised, thankful for the distraction. "Then we can look at the others and see if they're getting in the same way every time."

Horace, glad to have someone to help plan, nodded earnestly. "Of course—Jerry, how do I—" He frowned, beginning to fumble distractedly with the buttons and dials.

Juliet's gaze lifted to find Jerry staring at her—or vaguely in her direction, at least—and very slowly pushing the whole remains of his brownie into his mouth, looking completely zoned out. _Dharma has a team of real winners, I see._

Gradually, Horace got control of the screen and turned the dial back, all of the monitors flickering suddenly and showing different images. Juliet leaned forward, hands on the desk—though careful not to touch any buttons—and watched the fuzzy playback. At once, all other concerns slipped away as she began to focus on the middle monitor.

Monitor number five had the clearest view of a sight Juliet knew too well—the pylons. They still looked shiny and new, even on the fuzzy screen. Horace punched a button to speed the playback, making the lazily waving ferns on the corners of the screen begin to bob up and down quickly. Juliet leaned in, searching for any non-uniform movement.

"There." She said, raising a finger to the top right corner of the fifth monitor. Horace let it play normally at once, watching her as she studied the figures on screen. Four kids, laughing and shoving one another playfully, dressed in hiking garb. The girl at the head walked straight up to one of the pylons—the one that was crooked, bent forward at an angle, Juliet noticed—and stuck her foot into the bend in the metal outside of the pylon. With one foot leveraged and one of her teammates shoving her upward, she was able to swing her legs over the other side and slide off.

Juliet knew how they'd get back out, too—the way the ground was raised over the pylon base on the other side, she knew someone with a good running start would be able to step up the incline far enough to grab the edge, and from there leverage over. Just as long as they were careful not to swing their legs into the range of the sonar, they could make it in and out unharmed.

"Is this the only pylon bent like that?" She turned to Horace.

He adjusted his glasses, thinking. "As far as I know. A few of them had crumpled, and that's the only one we haven't fixed yet." Juliet didn't let her thoughts linger on what, exactly, could crumple such a strong metal.

"Do you have footage of the grassy area around the Barracks?"

"The Outlands? No, but we have them periodically on the road that circles 'round it. If they come out of the jungle there the same way each time, I guess we have our place?"

Juliet nodded affirmatively. Further inspection of the other tapes proved it. These hooligans were kids, not criminal masterminds—it would make a good deal of sense they'd go in and out the same way. Juliet watched each step on each bit of footage, her mind going through every possible thing. Bait, somehow? An empty van with the keys still in it would be tempting for the teenagers, she knew, but she didn't know if she wanted to risk a perfectly functioning van. A snare to catch one by their ankle? No, would probably result in injury, or would be seen before it could be triggered.

Miles watched the footage play back over and over behind her. She looked up at him. "Anything to add?"

Miles, who didn't expect to be asked for advice, shrugged. "On a trap, you mean? I dunno, grease up the pylon?"

Juliet frowned. "We don't want to hurt them, and I also don't see how that would be a trap."

He scoffed. "Dang, that's all I got. Sorry."

Jin had approached on her other side, but she didn't notice him until he spoke.

"Stuck. They could get stuck." He started, pointing to the shot frozen on monitor five that showed one of the kids using the bend in the pylon as a foothold.

Juliet blinked, going over it in her mind. If the foothold was made tighter, somehow, or even if some kind of _gentle_ snare could be placed there, it could work. The first unlucky kid to shove their foot in there would certainly prevent the others from going in as well, but the only problem would be having to get there before they helped out their friend.

She expressed this to Horace, nodding to Jin as a thanks for the suggestion. As she talked, she noted the look in his eyes. Something was bothering him, she could tell. Thankfully, the matter of the trap was settled. That was one less thing she had to worry about for now.

"It's settled, then. We'll fix the pylon and have someone sitting out there to spring on them." Horace agreed, glancing proudly around at the shipwreckers. "You're all quite the team, you know? If I didn't know any better, I'd say _you're _the Captain," he laughed amicably, with a nod to Juliet.

She stiffened but plastered a smile across her face. She just wanted to get back out into fresh air as soon as possible. "There's a reason I'm not, but I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you, Horace."

Horace began leading the way out to Juliet's relief. "Don't mention it!—Oh, god, look at the time—Sorry I kept you down here so long, you all must be starving. Cafeteria's open! If anyone asks, tell 'em H sent you." He didn't stop smiling the whole time he led the way up the stairs. "And if you need anything, I'll be around! I'll give you guys an hour or two to recover, you probably need it." With that, he opened the front door to the security office, giving Juliet a mock salute, still beaming.

The one thing about the island Juliet never seemed to get used to was how early the sun rose (and how late it set). The clock in the security office had only said quarter to five in the morning, but already the sky above was turning from pitch-black to a milky, desaturated indigo. It would always turn this murky color just before sunrise, giving the stars just a little longer to shine and sparkle before the bright sun would chase them away. The streetlamps had just turned off, and porch lights were beginning to flick on as well, most of the houses now having at least one window lit as the Dharma residents continued on with their morning.

The small, shed-like security building sat in a grassy island in the middle of an oval loop of sidewalk, extending in both directions. The one right out from the door of the office went one way before branching into several street-like winding paths, which in turn, sprouted more alley-like walkways. Immediately out of the office, one would be faced with the back of one of the larger houses (the west side of the Barracks seemed have larger, more luxurious houses, while the east side housed the smaller ones.) The side exiting the security office was completely lined with houses and sidewalks, but the one on the other side of the building was lush with a large patch of trees, obscuring the view of the Outlands on that side.

Juliet had to admit it was unnerving seeing the Barracks so clean and active and lived-in, instead of hollow, rotting remains with a few people taking advantage of them. The lack of streetlights meant the area was lit only by the dim, pale-blue light emanating from above, along with soft rays of pale gold shining from the lit windows. Some people had opened their windows and doors or had simply only closed the iron or screen outer doors, to let in the morning air.

It was—pleasant, outside. The eerie, dread-inducing atmosphere that always hung over the houses when Ben's people were occupying them had suddenly lifted, and for a moment it looked as normal as any other neighborhood. Despite it being early, the air was already quite warm. Dewdrops sparkled on the greenery and dripped down the sides of the houses, gathering on rooftop eaves and broad leaves to dribble down into small puddles like raindrops. The greens of the scenery and the yellows of the houses seemed so vivid.

An earthy scent, reminiscent of freshly cut grass, pervaded the air, along with the typical hints of citrus and flower-scent that always accompanied the island breezes. Small island birds, which resided in Dharma's trees and fed off of litter, sang back and forth to one another, sounding so much tamer than the shrieks and caws of the bigger jungle birds. Even in the early morning hours, Juliet could hear people talking and walking quietly. The sound of dishes clinking, water running, and rugs being shaken out emanated from open windows, and a lawnmower started up somewhere in the distance. It seemed almost perfect.

"So, Miss Other, where are we goin' next?" James drawled from somewhere behind her, making her start.

"Jesus, James," she sighed, then met his eyes coolly.

He grinned, flashing his dimples, as if he had forgotten the conflict in the security office in favor of playful banter. "What, your spidey-senses not workin' today? You usually sneak up on us, quiet as a cat."

"I don't sneak up on people," Juliet countered, holding his gaze. They shared a glance for a long moment, before James shoved his hands in his pockets and jerked his head in the direction of the security office.

"Havin' fun bein' the leader of our little group?"

"Don't tell me you're jealous," she returned calmly, watching his brows pinch together as he scoffed.

"Hey, I got us two weeks and talked to Richard, and that's more than I had to do." His tone was dismissive, but he began to fidget nervously.

Juliet looked around out of the corner of her eye to make sure they weren't being watched by any curious residents. Then, she lowered her voice, the playfulness disappearing from her eyes. "If you have a good reason for snapping at me, now would be a good time to express it."

James looked away from her, eyes darkening. She was giving him _that_ attitude, the cool, emotionless tone that admittedly pissed him off. That, and she called him jealous. Not that he _wasn't_, but he sure wasn't going to admit it to Wonder Woman, or anyone else for that matter.

"Whatever you think I am, whatever you've read about me in my file—I ain't that. I conned our way in, if you want to get me more involved in this than I should be, I ain't gonna stand for it."

Juliet felt a twinge of pain, somewhere in the back of her mind, but tried her best to ignore it. _'I don't know what else you expected. If you thought they were all going to be your friends after everything you've done—then, well—I've overestimated your intelligence, Juliet.'_

"I was never trying to get you to do anything. _You _told Horace you were the Captain, not me. I'm trying to keep up the façade to keep us safe, that's all I want to do. I'm not trying to compete with you or make you jealous, James.

James meets her gaze, unwavering, but he flinches internally. She's always so dang accurate, it's hard to hide it. "And I'm not tryin' to accuse you of nothin' either, but I'm jus' sayin'," he says huskily, "you're the only one we have the most reason not to trust, and you're the one with the least reason to help without askin' for anythin' in return."

Juliet felt her heart crack in her chest, the pain spreading across her skin like ice-cold raindrops. She didn't know what else she expected. She couldn't help but hang her head slightly.

'_I saw that coming from a mile away, Juliet, and you would have seen it too—if you were actually looking for it.'_ Juliet flinches at how real Ben sounds to her now, tries her best not to let it show. The thing she hated the most about Ben was how right he could be.

"Fine," she responds icily, not letting his eyes see through her own, "If you want to think of me like that, I don't blame you, and you don't have to change your mind. If you want to come to the cafeteria you can, but I'm not going to force you."

They hold each other's gazes for a long time, until James lifts his eyes to see that Miles and Jin are both standing with Juliet. The temptation to impulsively break from the group is so strong, the sickly-sweet self-pity in his chest starting to grow. However, he sighs defeatedly.

"Fine. For the sake of the group, let's go."

Sure, he didn't expect Juliet to be his best friend, but she didn't have to go out of her way to put him down just to make an impression on Dharma's oh-so-observant mayor. _If she's got the right to accuse me of bein' on board to shoot some rowdy teenagers, I sure got the right to call her suspicious,_ he reasoned, letting himself drift to the back of the procession, keeping his eyes on the ground for the most part.

He stopped as he heard a noise from one of the houses. Turning in its direction, James' eyes fell upon an open window of one of the nicer houses. It was open, except for the screen, and he could catch a glimpse of a kitchen inside. It looked nice, despite having the sickly-yellow color scheme everything in the Barracks seemed to have. He heard a toaster pop, the coffeemaker buzzing, water running, the sounds of a busy morning kitchen. A few bits of dialogue drifted toward him.

"Pierre, are there still glasses in your office?" A woman's voice sounded from somewhere just out of sight. There was a muffled response from somewhere else deeper in the house.

"Well, can you bring them here?—What? No, I don't have your tall black cup. Did you leave it somewhere else?—" Her voice faded as she moved out of range.

James let his gaze linger on the scene inside the window. For a moment, it sounded like his own house. He barely remembered it now, but she sounded like his mother getting him up for school and bustling in the kitchen. He could never hear the sound of a busy kitchen without thinking of her. Suddenly, movement caught the corner of his eye.

"Well, if it ain't Jinbo!" James greeted him, "Had enough of She-Ra for the day?" He asked, noticing he had also drifted behind, probably to come get him after he himself had lagged behind too far.

Jin beckoned for him to keep walking, and so he fell into step beside him, hands in his pockets. However, James could tell there was something he wanted to say.

"Don't tell me she sent you back her with a message for me." He began, nodding to where he could see Juliet and Miles up ahead.

Jin shook his head, then turned to meet his gaze. "Juliet… is a good person." He said earnestly.

James huffed, more than a bit frustrated everyone was so willing to white-knight for her. "And I ain't?"

Jin frowned. "Not a traitor. Be nice to her." He expressed firmly.

"You sure you didn't lose a bet or somethin'?" _I'm guilty enough as it is, don't rub it in, god dangit. _

"Sawyer," he started again, "you don't know if—you never know—if you never see her again."

James couldn't hold his gaze after that. Instead, he let his head drop and kept walking in silence. That was, after all, one of the good things about Jin; he was a man of few words.

Gradually, the dim light seeping into the barracks changed to a pale pink, then a vivid sherbet-orange, and finally a bright golden as the sun rose from behind the mountains. James huffed, squinting in the brightness, suddenly becoming more aware of people on the pathways around him. Most of them wore jumpsuits, others wearing loose-fitting summer clothes. They walked from place to place, sat on benches, went in and out of the houses, chattering nonstop all the while. They didn't even seem to notice or care as the outsiders walked through their midst. Suddenly, the sidewalk became wider, and turned into a kind of main street. The buildings along the group's walk had transitioned from larger houses, to smaller houses, and finally, to larger communal buildings. By what James could gather, there were two clusters of public buildings; one near the security station, and one on the opposite side of the Barracks, containing the rec center.

They passed the rec center, and a flat-looking building that bore no sign or symbol identifying it. Finally, they arrived at the Cafeteria. It was another single-story yellow building, like the surrounding houses, but it was set apart by its rather tall gable roof. It also had stone accents in a few sparse places, something none of the other houses had, the most noticeable of which was a chimney-like backpiece that rose just above the peak of the roof. It, like the rec center, had a porch, and a front with a pair of iron doors and some large, nearly floor-to-ceiling windows, covered with a thin metal grate rather than a screen. It also had a lawn, uncharacteristic of the surrounding houses, which contained an assortment of picnic tables. A few yards north of the lawn was another, patio-like structure which had the same stone chimney rising from its back, sporting a concrete floor and a few more picnic tables. The iron doors to the cafeteria were propped open with a kind of rag that had been wedged underneath each door.

James didn't remember this place from his own stay at the Barracks in the past—future? Future—in fact, he didn't remember a lot of the scenery. It sure didn't have as many houses, it wasn't this squeaky clean, wasn't this crowded, and some of these buildings were straight up not there. Then again, they could have been in the numerous piles of rubble that sat here and there around the neighborhood, probably the remains of the other buildings. The most striking difference, however, was the people. They were just pouring in and out of the Cafeteria, sitting at and on the tables, standing around aimlessly in the grassy area in front, not giving the smallest fraction of a dang as four outsiders walked in their midst.

In fact, they didn't seem to be giving a dang about anything. As James walked down the small stretch of sidewalk leading to the entrance, he noticed a bunch of young Dharma folk sitting in a circle in the grass, laughing like drunk teenagers. He caught snippets of some conversation, but mostly he could hear a familiar bubbling noise, followed by coughing and more laughter, between every few words. James stopped, blinked incredulously, and looked at everyone else. Nobody seemed to notice or care. Granted, it was the seventies, but still.

Juliet blinked, in awe of the sheer amount of people inside. She had never seen the inside of the cafeteria before, not that it would have looked as well preserved as it was now. It was a relatively large square room with grey walls and floor, full of the same picnic tables as outside. On one side there was a lunch line reminiscent of a school cafeteria, behind which were a few doors leading back into what was presumably a kitchen. There was another pair of iron doors on the back wall, though these had no windows, and sported the message "DO NOT ENTER" written plainly across it. The grey walls were sparsely decorated with posters, warnings, messages, and a few corkboards sporting community flyers. The room wouldn't have looked out of place in a YMCA.

Before Juliet could take another minute to regroup, someone suddenly stepped in front of her.

"Oh shit, sorry." Said the man, who appeared to be in his late teens. He blinked at them, then tipped his head to one side. "Hey, you the people from the shipwreck?" He asked, more curious than anything.

Juliet was taken aback by how casually he asked. "I—yes, actually, how did you know?"

He shrugged. "Word gets around quick here y'know. Good to see some new faces."

James finally caught up to the rest of the group, moving to stand beside Juliet. "And you are?"

"Lyle! My uncle works here." He returned, not sensing James' annoyance, still smiling amicably.

"I'm Juliet," she offered a handshake, which Lyle took gladly. "Boy, times sure are crazy. Say, did you hear about—"

Before he could continue, he saw someone else across the cafeteria. Immediately dropping Juliet's hand, he moved to greet them. "Dude, what's up!"

Juliet sighed, watching him disappear into the throng of people. She had hoped, a bit unrealistically, they'd be able to slip through the radar unnoticed, though she had to admit it could have been worse; they could have been angry or suspicious. She glanced at James, something which she had formed a habit of, and one which was apparently mutual, as he was looking back at her with a raised eyebrow.

As it turned out, the Dharma people were a friendly bunch. An extremely friendly bunch. In fact, they couldn't even get into the lunch line without people walking up to them or involving them in something as if they had lived there the whole time. Before she had even gotten a plate in her hands, Juliet had known more about Paul's brother, Heather's weekend, the latest gossip about Phil's girlfriend, a he-said-she-said remark about Amy, and Rosie's friend's sister's party last week than she had ever wanted to know.

"At least they ain't kickin' us out." Offered James, as they finally sat down after being trapped in a conversation for god-knows-how-long. Juliet had never been a people person, but she'd never been an introvert either, but after today she never wanted to speak to another person for weeks. Miles, on the other hand, was noticeably suffering. Juliet couldn't help but sense his discomfort and had tried her best to keep the friendly Dharma folk from involving him as much as possible.

"I'm beginning to see why your people got rid of 'em." He remarked to Juliet, who froze momentarily.

She sighed. "I wasn't involved in that, but it was probably a deeper reason than that."

"I'd have a hard time believin' Richard would let a bunch of hippies build all over the island like this." James added, looking over the top of his cup of orange juice as yet more people came into the Cafeteria.

"I doubt Horace asked for permission." Miles shrugged, continuing to pick at his food. After a moment of silence, he pushed away his plate. "You know what, I'm not even hungry. Actually, I should be getting Dan a plate."

"You need to at least eat something," Juliet chided him, handing him an orange. Miles paused, before slowly reaching out to take it with a nod.

"I'll… I'll take this and take a plate to Dan."

Juliet gave him a smile as he left, then turned back to her own plate. Her appetite had decreased since she had been on the island, she never felt like eating, especially after being officially trapped here. She stared down at the food she had been served, and though it was school-cafeteria quality, it somehow looked more appetizing than any food served to her in her three years with the Others.

She glanced up over at James, who stabbed uninterestedly at his plate. Did he really think that way of her? It's not like she could blame him, though. She let her gaze fall into her lap, hating the silence. _'Is it really worth it, to try and save everyone like this?'_

_It doesn't matter if it's worth it, it's the least I can do._

Juliet hugged her knees close to her chest as she sat in the security office, watching the fuzzy, teal-tinted monitors. A constant mechanical buzz came from somewhere behind the monitor wall, and the droning of the fluorescent lights in the hall was beginning to wear on her. Horace was leaning over the control panel, watching the screens as intently as she was.

"There's no guarantee it will work," she cautioned gently, fearing it would fail and she would let them down. _'Worry, worry, worry—you always worry about everyone else. When will you worry about yourself, Juliet?'_

Horace turned to her with a smile, "Hey, it's still better than nothing, right? I mean, I don't think this situation has ever happened to anyone before, right? Nobody would know how to handle this."

She tipped her head to one side, closing her eyes. "'S'pose so, but I don't want this to get anyone in further trouble."

"Nah, you're doin' great, Juliet." Horace seemed friendly as always. "If you'd ever like to join security, let me know." She laughs slightly in response.

They both turn back to the screens, casting a dim light on their faces, and the only light in the security station, other than the hall light that seeped in through the windows. Monitor number five, displaying the clearest view of the bent pylon, was the center of their attention. A harmless snare was hidden in the folds of crumpled metal, and the first kid to get their foot stuck would hopefully be the last. Miles and Phil sat concealed nearby, ready to jump the unsuspecting teenagers. There was no guarantee they'd be back tonight, or that they'd even come in the same way this time.

Horace moved to click on the audio for monitor five, watching the top-right corner of the screen intently. The only sound in the office other than the droning of lights and monitors was Jerry, still no more sober than he was that morning, occupying himself by stacking and unstacking cups.

Suddenly, Horace broke the silence. "Hey, uh—Thanks for saving Amy," he began, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Y-You really didn't have to. And sorry she made you walk into the fence."

Juliet smiled understandingly. "Don't thank me, thank James. He saw them first… and there's no hard feelings over the fence."

Before anything else could be said, the sound of crunching grass made them both look over. Juliet stood as movement flickered on the monitor. Should they go now, to the van that was sitting outside, to be there as soon as possible? Horace held his hand up. "Wait—that might have been Phil, snappin' a twig or something."

Then, a familiar, curly-haired figure stepped into view, followed by her compatriots. Juliet felt relieved that they were back tonight after all but refrained from getting too hopeful. They might have seen the trap being set and be coming back to humor the Dharma folk's attempts to catch them. Still, they seemed to be acting normal, and they gave away no sign that they knew of Miles and Phil sitting nearby.

One of the others, a lanky boy with a mop of sandy hair, moved to the pylon. The others stood nearby talking and shoving one another playfully, as teenagers did. Their friend got a good grip in the metal and hiked up one foot, ready to start climbing. Juliet's heart caught in her throat, hope rising for a brief moment. Suddenly, he froze, and because of the way the pylon was bent, she couldn't see exactly what was happening. That's when the other kids began to look concerned, moving to the pylon.

Then, Miles—brandishing a flashlight,—and Phil—brandishing his pistol—sprang from the bushes, sending them darting in different directions. Only three of them ran, and Juliet sighed with relief as they moved forward and apprehended the kid. Horace leaned back and whistled happily. "Dang, it worked!" He said, beaming. He fished the van keys out of his pocket and moved hastily to the door, Juliet at his heels. Jerry, still focused on his cup-stacking, waved to them as they left.

Juliet had never run up a flight of stairs so fast in her life. They darted past the attendant, sitting at the front desk in the surface office, who looked up abruptly. Horace, of course, tripped on the way to the van, but Juliet helped him up as quickly as she could. She found herself a little hesitant to get into the van—she had never been inside one before, and the only time she'd seen a relatively intact one was the one sitting at the bottom of a hill in a pit of jungle that had a body sitting in it—but in the moment she swung open the door and sat inside quickly. It wasn't until the door clicked shut and the van roared—or sputtered, rather—to life, that she realized this was the first time in three years she had been in a vehicle. Not even the Others used the vans, jeeps, trucks, or unmarked black sedans that had once been in Dharma's possession. Ben, for one, forbid the usage for god-knows-what reason. That, and none of them worked.

Though, they didn't seem much better thirty years earlier, either; as soon as Horace turned on the van, a dial fell off of the radio, and Juliet suddenly realized there were no seatbelts or handles. The van backed up, stopped, went forward, backed up in a different angle, turned around, and then finally began meandering through the sidewalks wide enough to drive it through. They drove down a curving side 'road', leading to the Cafeteria, where a dirt road carved its way from the loading docks around the back of the building, and then down into the dark Outlands. Horace flipped the brights on as soon as they began the downward slope into the meadow, keeping the window rolled down.

"Juliet, take my walkie and try and phone in to Phil, would 'ya?" He said casually, as if he were just having a joyride. She nodded dutifully and took the walkie out of the cupholder, wincing a little as she picked it up. Same exact model as the ones she used in present-day, it even made the same noises when she turned dials and pressed buttons.

She fumbled with the walkie a little, trying not to make it obvious that she had used this walkie so often she could practically work it in her sleep. Finally, a fuzzy voice came over the radio.

"Horace!—We got 'em, says he's gonna tell—" static took over, and Juliet groaned. It did that in present day, too.

"You—uh—might have to yell, they're not very good at picking up sound." Said Horace, talking loudly enough to be heard over the van, which was loudly voicing its displeasure at being driven over coarse dirt. In no time, they began another slope and hit the circular road going around the outside of the Outlands, and eventually turning off here and there into the surrounding temperate jungle.

Juliet stopped herself before she could reply 'I know' and nodded. "Phil, it's Juliet. We're on our way now. Keep him talking."

A staticky response came out from the speaker, before Phil turned off the transmission. She put the walkie back in the cupholder, leaning back against the cheap seats of the van.

"Oh, careful with that seat—" Horace was cut off by the sound of the headrest falling off of the passenger seat. He grinned sheepishly. "We haven't been keeping up with maintenance, really."

After a moment, he kept talking. "Fun, ain't it? This is the most exciting thing I've done in weeks." He beamed, as if on a fun adventure. Juliet was, at least, glad he was having a good time. They rounded a good part of the circular road, and as they did, Juliet glanced out of her window.

From this far away, the Barracks looked like a small town, full of glowing lights, and yet so small compared to the vast, dark Outlands. She had never seen it so lit up before, it was so different from the island she used to know.

Horace slammed the breaks suddenly, and Juliet was barely able to grab the seat in time to stop herself from going through the windshield. A figure darted out in front of them, just a hair from being hit, and dove headfirst into the tall grass. Juliet could barely catch a glimpse of him going further into the meadow. Before he could get far, Miles and Phil came rocketing out of the jungle behind him. Phil went headlong after the escapee, while Miles skidded to a halt to face Horace as he and Juliet swung open the van doors and leapt out.

"Phil let him go! He said he was gonna tell us everything if Phil took his hands off of him, and he bolted!" Miles raged, gesturing wildly at where Phil had entered the grass.

Phil had barely made it a few yards, the far more athletic teenager outpacing him.

"I didn't let him go; you were the one who didn't 'cuff him!" He called over his shoulder, before suddenly tripping and falling out of view into the tall grass. Miles ran around the side of the van, and Juliet and Horace got back in as well.

"Careful with that door, Miles!" Horace shouted over the van grumbling and complaining as it was forced to move forward. Miles looked up, confused, as the door shut.

"What?" He yelled over the commotion of the engine, before the inside handle suddenly broke off in his hand. "Ah, shi—"

"You might want to hold onto something back there!" Said Juliet, gripping her seat for dear life as Horace rerouted the van.

"Think we'll beat him to the houses?' asked Miles, somehow finding the courage to stand in the rickety back end of the van to look out one of the windows.

"Not sure, but I'm sure someone 'oughta see him if he's going right by the rec center. Juliet, toss Miles the walkie, see if he can radio Phil."

The response from Phil was a bunch of out-of-breath, incoherent yelling, interspersed with loud bursts of static. Needless to say, it wasn't very helpful. The van came roaring up the road behind the cafeteria, skidding into the middle of the sidewalk before screeching to a halt. Several Dharma residents had already come out of their houses looking around for any threat. It didn't take long to find Phil, keeled over and out of breath, in the middle of one of the sidewalks.

"What the heck, man!" Horace was the most irritated Juliet had ever heard him. Still, he stopped to see if Phil was ok.

"I lost track of him as soon as we were in the grass," he panted, then stood to glare at Miles. "You didn't 'cuff him when I said! And then you had the nerve to tell Horace _I _let 'em go!"

Horace gestured frantically for him to stand down. "Okay, okay man, we get it! It's fine, no need to get upset! He can't have gone far; I'll send someone back to make sure he doesn't get back up that pylon. He's still gotta be in the fence somewhere."

But he didn't go back to the pylon. Someone was stationed right at the only place that kid could get out, but he wasn't there. The cameras showed he hadn't gone out in the time between running off and having a guard stationed there, and he hadn't left any other way. He didn't try and get into security or any other buildings. In fact, nobody had seen him at all. It was as if he just disappeared.

Midnight came and went, no word. Eventually, Juliet and Miles were sent home.

"Easy, Miles—you don't want to wake anyone else." She chided as he slammed open the door.

"What is his problem with me?!" He demanded, standing in the entryway as Juliet gently closed the door behind him.

"He probably just doesn't like that you're doing his job better than he is." She offered, moving toward Miles. She knew he wasn't a touchy person, but she couldn't help but put a hand on his shoulder.

Miles froze, tempted to slap her hand right off of him. But, he realized, there wasn't any reason to. His fists clenched and clenched and suddenly, let go, all of the tension bleeding out of him. This had got to be the longest, shittiest day on this island. But he's not gonna snap at Juliet. She's kinda weird and gives him the creeps sometimes, sure, but she's genuine. Even if she's not, he doesn't really care.

"You haven't slept in a whole day," she began, glancing toward Daniel's room.

"Neither have you," he countered, shrugging. "_But_ if you insist," he put up his hands in mock surrender and settled on the couch. "I'll take one for the team and sleep on the sofa."

"Miles, you don't have to sleep there, I'll sleep there." She frowned, crossing her arms.

"_Actually, _I'm sleepin' there." Drawled James, exiting the kitchen, drinking orange juice straight from the carton as he wandered back toward the couch.

"Now's a good time ta get movin', Chachi."

Juliet sighed. "I never thought I'd see anyone argue over sleeping on the couch." 

"And what are you still doin' up yerself, Princess?" James went on, shoving Miles unceremoniously off the couch.

Juliet didn't even know the answer to that question. She was no stranger to going days without sleep, but she sighed. "If there's another bed left, Miles can have it."

"If you ain't Miss Selfless, eh?"

"Unlike you, I'm being _polite_," she returned, taking the carton from his hand.

"_Hey, _I was drinkin' that!"

"You'll be drinking it out of a glass, then." She carried it back to the kitchen and put it back in the fridge.

James kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on the couch. "Anyways, I claimed the sofa, so y'all can scram."

Miles groaned. "Sunroom swing it is, I guess."

"I'm not going to force anyone out of a bed," Juliet insisted, feeling deeply uncomfortable at the idea of having the comfortable bed while someone else sleeps on a dang sofa. It was the kind of selflessness she wished could have been trained out of her, but even during three years of Others Bootcamp, it never left.

"Here, how about this, you do me a favor, and then I'll owe you one—givin' up a bed, if you want to be all chivalrous." Miles started.

"And what favor would that be?"

Miles hesitated slightly, before nodding to the first bedroom in the hall. "Check on Dan for me?"

Juliet blinked, not having realized the offer was serious. She looked at the door to the bedroom, and then back at Miles. It wouldn't be enough to get rid of the guilt of having the nice bed, but it would be something. She smiled, holding up a hand in surrender.

"Alright, I suppose that's fair. Goodnight, boys. And make sure to actually _sleep_." She went on, gently clicking open Daniel's door and slipping inside.

As soon as the door shut, James rubbed his face tiredly. "Some woman, eh?"

"Some woman." Miles echoed half-heartedly in agreement, shrugging and sitting on the living chair next to the couch. "I ain't gonna get much sleep even if I try."

"Wanna stay up and play 'I Spy'?" Sawyer offered sarcastically.

"We'd have to wait 'til Juliet goes to bed first, so she doesn't catch us up past our bedtime." He snorts, though he feels a pang of—thankfulness, maybe?—at her care.

With that they both slumped back in their respective seats, staring up at the ceiling. Juliet came out of Daniels room and went to the bathroom, gathering some towels and other things before going back in. Miles watched her concernedly. He knew James wasn't really pissed about her bein' some kind of traitor or whatever, just that she showed him up. She didn't even mean to, he didn't think. But hey, tensions were high. He wished he had snagged one of those brownies for this exact kind of moment.

Suddenly, a loud, shrill ringing emanated from one of the end tables. Both Miles and James flew up at once, exchanging a confused glance. It sounded a few more times in a row, paused momentarily, then rang again. _Shit, there's a phone here? How did I not notice that before?_

Miles was the first on his feet, pretty much sprinting past James to be the first to answer. "Hello?"

James was leaning over his shoulder. "It's probably fer me, hot-shot, gimme the phone."

Miles held it out of his reach. "Hello?"

"… Miles? Is James there?" It was Horace, of course it was. Miles couldn't help but roll his eyes. He shoved the phone in James' direction, but he made sure they could both hear it.

"Yeah, Chief? Any particular reason you're calling at four in the morning?"

"… I—Uh—Can you…. Is anyone else listening? Or did anyone else hear the phone ring?"

"Jin sleeps like a rock, but Jules sure heard it." He looked out of the corner of his eye at Miles, who was mouthing 'what?' silently. There was a long silence on the other end.

"…I…Can you come… can you come down toward the rec center?" Horace sounded different. Faint, maybe.

"Somethin' wrong, H?"

Another long silence.

"I'm calling from an empty house near… near the rec center… I just—Can you both come down here?... It's, uh, it's important…" Something was wrong, _really _wrong.

"Sure…" Miles responded, before James could.

"Oh, and uh…"

"Yeah?"

"…Don't—don't tell anyone else about this… please." Horace hung up. 

There was a really, really long silence between them, broken only by the sound of Juliet's voice in the next room over, slightly muffled by the wall.

"Easy, easy, Dan—No, it's not a flash, it was just the phone—" She was saying, and Miles rose slowly.

"Let's go, man." He said. "I got a feeling we should."

"Sneakin' out past our bedtime? Sheesh, hope Barbie ain't awake when we come back."

Miles gently opened the door. He felt bad taking advantage of when she was distracted, but he was getting a nasty, _nasty_ vibe from this whole situation. They both came out onto the pathway and clicked the door shut, venturing toward the rec center.

'Toward the rec center' was _not_ enough direction when it came to the Barracks. They went in circles at least a few times, and James began to wish they had brought Juliet after all. Even with it being completely different from present-day Barracks, she still knew her way around here. _God, does she have to show me up in every dang thing?_ Thankfully, the low-slung rec center came into view. Before they could reach it however, something beckoned them from an alley between two houses.

Horace, as white as a ghost, leaned up against the inner wall of the alley, fidgeting nervously.

"Jesus, Horace, what happened?" Asked James, "Someone knock that smile of 'yer face?"

Horace was silent for a long moment.

"We… Uh... We found him."

"The kid?" Miles prodded; his voice low. Horace gave a slow nod, beginning to make his way back into the alley.

They stepped over the grasses and vines that populated the narrow, dank alley. On the other side, they broke out into a small clearing, walled on all sides by the back ends of the houses. The area was grassy, but a pathway extended from the back door of each house toward the middle. This was the area where trash cans and other things were stashed away from the public eye. What caught James' eye the most, however, was some kind of blanket-covered lump on the edge of where all the sidewalks met.

Horace stumbled shakily to where it was, and gently crouched on the pavement next to it, looking away. Miles froze abruptly, immediately feeling the stinging and aching on his body characteristic of a beating. He moved forward, hearing the thoughts in the form of whispers that got louder, more distinct as he approached. He made a conscious effort to try and block it out, standing as far away as possible as he could. He already knew exactly what was underneath that blanket.

James slowed his steps, feeling his mouth go bone-dry as he saw the crimson soaking through the fabric of the standard-issue blanket. Horace moved forward and gently grabbed one corner of it, and then threw it back in one swift motion, immediately turning to look away, looking as if he might faint at any moment.

James took one look, then pulled the blanket back over. Needless to say, the kid was dead. James didn't recognize him—not that he could even if he knew 'em, with his face the way it was—but he knew it was the kid that escaped. Juliet said they were what, 16? 17?

He lifted his gaze to where Horace, his hands spotted with red in places, was standing with his back to the scene, face white.

"Any idea who did it?"

"There's…. There's no cameras back here. I just—the last person we knew was back… never mind." His voice trailed off as he shakily put his hands back into his jumpsuit pockets.

"Chief." James caught his attention, anticipating an explanation. He was met with a long, shaky silence.

Finally, Horace sighed and hung his head, whispering a response so quietly James could barely hear. "The last person we know was back here was Roger, he had a shift to empty the trash cans back here, at the same time the kid disappeared."

_Of course. Don't know what else I expected._

The Dharma mayor turned to face the blanket on the ground with a long, shuddering breath. Then, he looked at James.

"Listen, man, I don't—I don't do too well around blood, y'know." He continued to fidget nervously. "I—"

"Why are we out here, Horace?" James demanded gruffly, taking a step toward him. Horace held his gaze earnestly.

"Listen, Jim," the desperation was rising in his voice, "I—nobody's ever _died _here…"

"Really? I think what's under that blanket has somethin' to say about that."

"No, you don't understand… Nobody's ever _died_ died here." Horace glanced around, as if to see if anyone was watching. "Nobody… We've had our accidents, y'know? But nobody knows that. Nobody _can_ know. I just—I don't know what they'd do to me, to this place—"

James raised a brow incredulously. "You askin' us to help you cover up a murder, Chief?"

"Not so loud!" Horace continued, his tone pleading and pitiful. "Look man, I just—You're a Captain, you should know…. How it feels, man, to let everyone down. They all look up to you and just… You gotta decide where to draw the line. What they need to know and what won't hurt them if they don't." He implored.

James looked up at Miles, who had been staring blankly at the bloody sheet since they had entered the back alleyway. After a long, long moment, he let out a breath.

"Fine. We get this cleaned up, _but, _you gotta guarantee us a place here if we want it."

"Of course!" Horace assured him immediately. "Jim, you earned that the moment you talked to Richard. Any job, any money, you all can have it, it's _yours—"_

"I don't need jobs or money," James cut him off. "I just want my people to be safe. That's all."

"Gladly." Horace seemed relieved at his acceptance, "Heck, you're practically one of us already. We're all part of the same big family."

He looked over to Miles, who looked up.

"If LaFleur says it's a deal, it's a deal." He agreed, but the tension drawn in his voice made it clear he was desperate to get away from that body.

Horace sighed. "I… I knew I could trust you Jim. Your whole group just works so well together, I can see why you're the Captain for sure." His smile fades and his gaze drifts to the shadows.

"Y-Y'know, when we first started getting recruits on, we had a girl, Mary, about that kid's age… She was smart, loved being here." He smiled briefly, but it faded. "She uh… she went out into the jungle. Some of Richard's men were out there. Assaulted her and shot her execution style… Richard said he wasn't involved, I don't—I _hope _he wasn't, but… They buried her body. We told everyone she was just missing."

James dipped his head. "Sorry."

Horace nodded. "I just… It happens. You just gotta… Make the right call, I guess. It's hard, but… I'm the leader, I gotta decide."

James blinked at him, then nodded. Miles stepped forward

"Let's just get this over with so we can go back to bed and forget about it."

"Took the words right outta my mouth," Breathed James, glad this uncomfortable-as-heck situation was _finally _ending. All three of them turned back to the blood-stained sheet on the ground.

"Let's start cleaning up, I guess."

James hesitated, his hand on the doorknob, mind still reeling. He had just locked everyone into the Initiative, for better or for worse. Still, he was apprehensive about facing Juliet. There was a small sliver of hope that she would be asleep, or not realize what had taken place, or just simply wouldn't ask. She had sure as heck heard the phone ring, and those walls were so thin she must have heard at least a bit of the conversation. What exactly should he do? Go in and lie and hope for the best, or come out and say it?

Part of him bristled at the idea of sucking up to her like that, just giving over the information. A selfish part of him wanted to keep it, so finally get a leg up on Ms. Perfect, who seemed to outdo him in everything without trying. God knows what Others-mind-tricks she's learned, maybe that's exactly what she wants, maybe she wants him to lose it and make a fool of himself so she can be in contr—

"Are you gonna keep groping the doorknob or are we goin' inside?"

James rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you sure as heck are ancy to get in, eh? You're not the one who's gettin' chewed out."

"What, are you scared of her all of the sudden? All she did was send us to bed without dinner." Miles snickered as he moved past the taller man, opening the security door and then the actual door without a moment of hesitation.

The door swung open, and James held his breath. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he exhaled in relief; there was nobody inside. Just darkness, everything as it had been left.

Miles gave him a look. "Still scared? Want me to hold your hand?"

James shoved his way inside, sweeping a cursory glance around. It smelled like coffee, and he wasn't sure if it was the cup he had made earlier or another one, but otherwise everything seemed quiet. The light under Daniel's door was off and he couldn't hear any talking. For a moment, the only sounds were the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock and the crickets and night birds outside. That, and a subtle buzzing coming from the kitchen window that was most likely a fly. Miles blinked, then began down the hallway.

"I'm gonna take my place on the swing now, 'cause I don't want to be around when you get in trouble." He called over his shoulder, which James assumed was his way of saying 'goodnight.'

Deciding he was thirsty and getting a bit more irritated by the fly in the kitchen, James meandered onto the tile flooring. However, as soon as his boot hit the linoleum, the light turned on. James froze, then rose his hands slowly in surrender as he looked up to see Juliet sitting on the counter, one hand on the light switch.

"Alright, alright, I went out past my bedtime, go ahead and let me have it, Ma."

Juliet seemed to glare at him. "A dead teenager is not a joke, James. And don't try and tell me you weren't involved."

James felt ice-cold fear prickle up and down his spine. _Shit._ He looked up and met her eyes abruptly, feeling his irritation begin to bleed out.

"So, you think I killed him? Is that what this is leadin' up to?"

"No," Juliet began, sliding off the counter, "I know who killed him. But you left to help Horace cover up a body. When exactly were you going to tell me this?"

James' hackles rose and he took a step toward her, scowling. "If you had given me more than five dang seconds ta get into the house, maybe you would've found out."

She didn't seem to react at all to his display of intimidation. "Listen to me, James," her voice was low and icy. "I know this isn't a very good situation, I know we're under a lot of stress, and I know you think I'm suspicious." She took a step toward him until they were barely an inch apart.

"I'm not asking you to be my friend, James. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me. But right now, we're in the middle of something completely unknown, and our main concern is keeping ourselves together. We don't know anything about this place, these people… They'll see right through us if you keep acting like this. And I know you don't trust me, and you don't have to—but please, at least have faith in the group as a whole. We only have each other right now, and I know being in close quarters with an Other is the last thing you want, but nobody can change that now."

James' brow furrowed, but he felt his anger dissipating. It was stupid as heck to get angry at her anyways. _Dang, she really does believe I hate her._

After a long time, he murmured a reply. "I don't hate you. Never did. Not even when you tazed me. And you don't have 'ta believe me, but I'm tellin' you: I only lost my shit 'cause I thought you were tryin' to outdo me, or somethin' stupid like that. Heck, you've read my file, you know I ain't the sharpest spear in the pile."

Juliet's lashes fluttered at him, and she looked up in earnest. She didn't seem like she expected to hear an apology—or rather, the closest thing James could muster to one.

"I know you were jus' tryin' to take care of everyone, Barbie. Heck, you practically secured our place here."

She swallowed hard. "You don't have to do that, James. I didn't expect an apology, I just wanted…" 

"I ain't apologizin' 'cause I have to, it's 'cause I want to." He slowly raised a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, heart in his throat as he waited to see how she reacted.

Her gaze flickered down and to the side, blinking slowly. She let him do it. A sudden buzzing from the curtains broke them both out of the moment.

"Dang fly… Worst part about this rock is all the bugs."

Juliet reached behind her to the flyswatter sitting on the counter, holding it out to him. "Would you like to do the honors, Ship Captain?"

James couldn't help but grin, "Gladly, First Mate."

The smell of fresh-cut grass permeated the air as golden-orange evening light began to pour onto the quaint little neighborhood. James and Juliet led the way up the path, side by side. Juliet looked off of the sidewalk to one side, viewing a grassy quad containing a gazebo and a few benches. People sat on picnic blankets, sunbathing, in circles, or played catch around the grassy expanse. The air was full of noise typical of any suburban neighborhood—a lawnmower running in the distance, birds chirping, people talking and laughing, children playing somewhere out of sight. The only abnormal sounds were the occasional cry of a kookaburra or some other exotic bird, and a chorus of barking jackals or wild dogs far off in the distance.

"Hey, of all the places on this rock, this seems the coziest." James put his hands in his pockets, looking up at the sky, which was slowly turning more and more orange as evening approached. Sunset on the island was late as all heck, it was eight, but it looked more like four or five in the afternoon.

Juliet tipped her head and smiled in response. "The friendliest too, at least in the daytime." Her voice trailed off as she spotted someone familiar in the distance. She grabbed James' arm to catch his attention. He followed her gaze to where a janitor was picking up trash off the sidewalk.

"Jesus, what the heck is he still doing out here?" James frowned, watching Roger cautiously from afar.

"Did Horace say anything about what they were going to do?"

"Said he wasn't even gonna tell Dr. Chang this whole thing happened, I guess they can't 'cuff him or send him off island without suspicion." He looped his arm around hers and decided to turn on another path away from the janitor. As he took a turn toward the security station, something fuzzy darted out in front of him, nearly tripping him.

Juliet broke away from him to approach the offender, crouching to peer under the ferns beneath which it was currently sheltering.

"James, look." Her voice was quiet with awe as she looked at the creature.

Hoping he wasn't being goaded into looking at whatever the heck kind of ugly, dangerous jungle creatures also resided on the island, James stooped to have a look. His eyes caught white fur patched with black and orange. The small, wiry island resident turned its face toward them with a look of annoyance.

"Jesus, who the heck brought their cat here?!" Exclaimed Miles, having joined them in staring at the calico.

Juliet put her hand out and tried to beckon it. The cat twitched an ear at her, and cautiously ventured out from the ferns and into the warm evening sun to sniff her hand. As it came into the light, the group caught sight of some kind of weird spot on the inside of its ear. As the cat came up to amicably rub against her legs, hoping for food scraps, Juliet gingerly inspected its ear.

Tattooed on the skin of its ear was a tiny Dharma logo, bearing no particular station emblem, and a small string of numbers which was probably for identification.

"Escaped experiment?" Ventured Miles, as the cat began rolling around on the pavement, hamming it up for attention.

"I don't think they'd be that careless." Juliet thought, standing up. The calico, although friendly, seemed lean enough to be a stray of sorts. Maybe they were native or had been brought here by ships and were convenient for experiments.

"Never took you fer a cat person, Blondie."

Juliet shrugged lightly, watching as the cat caught sight of a picnic basket being opened, and sprinted into the grassy quad to investigate. "I'm not really an anything person."

"Really? You ain't ever had a pet before?"

"I used to have rats." She answered, watching James frown.

"_Rats?"_

"Come on, James, they're not that bad. They're very clean animals. Besides, they were the only ones I could really afford to have in an apartment." She glanced up as Horace approached, waving happily.

"Good to see you all out and about! How are we doin' today, team?"

"Just swell. Hope that ain't yer cat." James nodded to where the calico was darting across the grass and underneath the gazebo to escape a few rocks and cans being thrown at it to shoo it.

"Huh? Oh! No, no, that's not anybody's cat, no need to worry." He grinned. "She's just part of a batch we have running around inside the fence. They're all pretty nice, just to test some of the island's properties is all. Wouldn't recommend bringing one inside though, they're far from housebroken." He chuckled slightly, before looking between James and Juliet.

"I guess we're all collaborating on the next move?" He beckoned toward the security station, leading the others down the path toward it.

"Yes, as a team." Said Juliet.

"Good to hear! We at Dharma love team players. Not that there's anything wrong with going solo, but everything's better together, y'know?" He continued on rambling about Barracks life and spouting the benefits of teamwork as he let them into the station, nodding to the receptionist who sat filing her nails at the desk.

"Evening, Heather!" He greeted, beginning to open the iron doors leading downstairs. Juliet paused in the middle of the room, turning to look at the mirror on the wall above. _That's the same place the window was on the inside of the office room. It must be a two-way mirror, then_. She could hear typing and talking through the wall, wondering exactly who worked in there, as the security team had their headquarters in the single downstairs room.

She felt a cool blast of air as the iron doors swung open, giving a good view of the dimly lit stairwell. Juliet made her way carefully down the concrete steps, careful not to step on areas where it was cracked or missing chunks. As she ran her hand along the smooth concrete wall for any sign of a railing, she froze in her descent as her hand caught on deep gouges in the wall.

She glanced over, squinting in the darkness, and was barely able to make out three deep, parallel gouges in the wall, like something out of a cheesy horror move. _Great. Just great. _She commented internally.

James was surprised to see Jerry, actually coherent for the first time since they'd met, watching the monitors. He waved but didn't look over as the others entered. In the usually empty space was a white folding table, containing a large piece of paper. On closer inspection, it was a squeaky-clean map of the Barracks.

"Where'd you have this? Should start handing 'em out, it's easy as all heck to get lost here." He looked over his shoulder to there a door was open, leading into some kind of storage room and probably containing the weapons safe.

"Don't worry, you'll learn to get around. Coffee's in the spare room if you want to help yourselves." Horace replied cheerily, taking his own Dharma-printed Styrofoam cup and having a sip. As he put it down, James noticed it looked almost as white as milk. _Jesus, sweet tooth much?_

Miles, for one, curled his lip at the thought of another cup of that nasty-ass coffee, but he didn't feel up to doing anything without caffeine. That, and he was glad to get away from everyone else. At least Phil wasn't here. He ventured toward the spare room and peeked inside. The spare room was about the size of a walk-in closet, if not a little larger. Guns were stored in a tightly locked glass case embedded in the opposite wall. The walls on both the left and right were lined with filing cabinets and bookshelves, and the middle of the room contained a table, a few rickety chairs that looked like they had been rejected from a scrap yard, and a lone end table with the coffeemaker on it.

It smelled nice (compared to the rest of the basement anyways, which always smelled like gunpowder and mold,) and it was quiet, so Miles decided to stall in here as much as he could. _I' hate people._ He had managed to get little sleep and hadn't been able to get rid of his headache since he had seen the body the previous night.

Miles grabbed a cup and filled it, gulping it down before he could taste it, and slumped up against the wall. He had left the scene and the body had been buried, so why the heck was he still _hearing?_ He didn't want to hear it, didn't want to feel it—but consciously trying to block it out did little to help. Miles stared into the murky black liquid in his cup, feeling like he'd never be able to get the dang thoughts out of his head. What has he supposed to do, talk to that kid? 'Sorry for burying you and covering up your murder'? And of course, this place had to be a deathtrap. He had had terrible visions before, ones where he could feel the pain so vividly, but never like _that. _Never enough to make him pass out. They'd give him a heck of a headache and make him a little spacey at most, but never that bad.

He was startled by Jin entering the room, moving to grab his own cup. He nodded to Miles.

"Are you ok?" He ventured. Miles studied him. He looked just as tired. _It must be lonely, barely able to speak any English_. _And of all the decades, too._

"Mhm," Said Miles, his gaze drifting to the wedding ring on his finger. He had a wife, he remembered now. She got off the island.

Jin glanced out of the room, and then back to Miles. "Sawyer and Juliet." He stated simply.

"Yeah, I know." Miles sighed. "Kinda wish they'd just kiss or something already."

Jin shook his head. "No. Do you trust her?" He tried again, saying each word slowly, as if testing it out.

Miles' brow furrowed. He didn't expect such a direct question. "Who, Juliet?" He asked, not sure what kind of answer he'd give to that. With a shrug and a long moment of silence, he forced out as much of a response as he could gather. "I just… I dunno, it doesn't really matter. She's a nice person I guess."

"Other…" Jin reminded him. Miles studied his expression. He didn't seem to be suspicious of Juliet, just…. Unsure. Miles couldn't blame him. But what did he know about all this island-survivor drama? He was there to get Ben, she was one of Ben's people who hated his guts, and then they ended up stuck here together. Boom, nothing more nothing less.

"I mean, yeah. But I don't know, she's just _okay_ to me. I'm lukewarm." The words started to feel less true as he said them. He felt a pull to some side away from lukewarm, but he wasn't exactly sure whether it was toward good or bad. She could be kinda creepy sometimes, but that was probably just spending three years with Ben. Miles couldn't spend half a minute with him for all the money in the world—well, for most of the money in the world. Other than that, she just didn't really give off any bad vibes.

He thought back to her caring for Dan. She didn't have to do that, heck, she didn't know anything about Daniel—or Miles, for that matter. She spent almost all of last night with him and tried to get Miles to go to bed. She'd wanted to give up a bed for him, too. He had to admit, taking care of Daniel put her in a pretty high-up place in his mind, but he wouldn't dare admit that to anyone else. She sure wasn't evil, but he definitely wasn't 'lukewarm' about her.

Heck, she even seemed to care about James. Miles sighed, feeling a little bad for even suspecting her of anything. But still, he had to be cautious of anyone. God knows what Others-mind-tricks Ben hammered into her, but she seemed to hate his guts, which was enough common ground for Miles. But all this business about Others, Survivors, Hostiles… he just honestly didn't give that much of a shit. Sure, if he'd crashed with the others, he'd probably be a bit touchier about letting Juliet on the team. But it just wasn't important to him, and he didn't see what James' problem with her could have been, other than James being James and getting mad over nothing.

Jin absentmindedly stirred his coffee. "She is nice… But her people took Claire. Ethan—Ethan said he was—one of us." He paused, peering out of the doorway to where the 'planning' was still taking place. "We thought Ethan was good too."

Miles hated to be dragged into this island drama, especially when he didn't know who the heck any of these people were. Ethan? Claire? Whatever. But he could see what Jin was saying. He had a wife—a lot more to protect than Miles.

"I dunno man, you know more about her than I do. She seems to be covering our asses, at least."

With that, he ventured out of the doorway, moving toward the map table.

"—And this house here, that's the one we had to build in a rainstorm. Boy, was that an adventure. And that house we built during the drought. The funny thing was—" Horace was talking as usual.

Miles stood beside Juliet and gave her a look, which she returned.

"How are you feeling?" She asked gently, giving him that glazed-over concerned look.

Miles felt a pang of guilt for having just talked about her in the other room, and something in her eyes tell him she knew. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Not fine and dandy, but I'll live." The words burned as they came out, and immediately afterwards he cursed himself for not saying 'I'm feeling fine.'

She nodded. "Maybe from lack of sleep?"

Miles rolled his eyes. "Easy Ma, I'll take a nap today or somethin', I'm fine." He went on sarcastically, looking up as Horace turned his attention back to the shipwreckers.

"Oh, Miles! Jin! Good to see you both." Said Horace, as if seeing them for the first time. He turned to James and Juliet. "Jim, Juliet, do you have everything you need?"

James shrugged, staring at the map. "Those kids are probably gonna come lookin' for their buddy tonight, and if that's the case we gotta get everything ready by midnight."

"I think we can do that." Horace said quickly. "I can get you anything you want."

"How many people do you think will be willing to help?" Juliet broke in, glancing nervously at the monitors. "We don't need a whole army's worth, but we need enough people who know at least vaguely what they're doing."

"No worries! We can go out and get a handful of men in no time, I'm sure they'd be happy to lend a hand. Anything to stop a window from being broken."

Miles raised an eyebrow. "Mind lettin' us in on the secret plan?"

"Oh!" Said Horace, as if suddenly remembering Miles and Jin existed. "Right—err, Jim, would you care to do the explaining?"

"Sure. We're gonna set up a decoy van in the first quad they'll run across, that looks like it's full 'a weaponry and other things. They'll head toward it and we'll shut off the lights as soon as they're in, and close in from the other side. If we catch one, it'd be enough. They're probably gonna split up and scram as soon as the darkness hits, so that's why we gotta have our volunteers."

"I can do the lights," suggested Horace. "I'll have to drive down the tunnels in a minute here to make it before midnight, but I'll have a walkie with me, and I'll be standing right at the master switch."

"Convenient. One heck of a Scooby Doo scheme, but it sounds like it'll work."

"They're kids, not criminal masterminds, Miles, I think we'll be fine."

Horace turned to face Juliet. "So, you gonna lead the charge?"

She blinked in surprise, then looked at James. "Only if he'll be leading it too."

James rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna be there for emotional support."

Horace beamed. "It's settled! I'll leave you both in charge and head down the tunnels now." He held up his walkie to signify he had it with him, then shoved it in his pocket and drew out his keys. "Have a good evening, ship-wreckers! Catch ya later tonight!" He called from up the stairs, sounding as chipper as if he were just doing an errand.

"So, do we start drafting people now or later?"

"Stop pokin' my dang arm."

"I'm not poking your arm, James, you're sitting on a bush."

"I'm not sittin' on a bush!"

James shifted uncomfortably next to Juliet, grumbling under his breath. Even after spending what felt like half his life on this rock, sweating his ass off in the vines and ferns and sand, he could still never get used to sitting in the underbrush. Miss Others 2004, on the other hand, sat quiet as a cat in a yarn basket.

Juliet blinked, staring out at the sidewalk. Just a few yards away sat the decoy van. She could vaguely see Phil sitting in the brush on the opposite side, scratching himself every now and then, mumbling about having to sit in the bushes.

She looked over to James for reassurance, raising an eyebrow. "This your idea of fun?"

"Not as fun as runnin' down a boar."

She smiled in response. "Let's hope we don't have to hunt anything tonight," Her smile faded slightly. She let the silence consume her for a brief moment, then turned back to him.

"Where did you bury him?" She asked gently.

James sighed. "Out behind one of the houses, near where we found 'em." Their eyes met for the longest time, before Juliet nodded.

"I'll take you out there tomorrow night, if ya want." He continued somberly.

"Thank you, James."

The sounds of crickets and night birds enveloped them, the heat stifling and the night dark and eerie. Juliet blinked, wondering if this plan would work. Would they even come back tonight? Would they bring reinforcements? Would they ask where their other member was?... Her heart felt heavy. Sure, they had broken a few windows. They were _kids—_and that was really the only thing that mattered to her. She could never hate a child.

'_Children can be cruel, you know. Don't make a statement you might regret later.'_

_Leave me alone, Ben. _She hoped James couldn't feel her tensing.

'_Don't grieve yourself for some casualty of natural selection, perhaps he was just too weak to defend himself.' _Jesus, just when she thought he couldn't get any worse.

_Go to hell._

"You ok there Blondie? Too much excitement for one night?"

She sighed, letting as much of the tension out of her shoulders as she could. "Just… thinking." It always made her uncomfortable to be asked how she was doing. She couldn't help but perceive it as a kind of attack.

"Maybe you should stop doin' that."

"I wish I could."

They mutually turned back to the sidewalk, still waiting for something to happen. Suddenly, a blast of static startled Juliet.

"Shit," James grabbed frantically for his walkie, flipping it on. "Anythin?'"

"You might want to get ready for a fight. They're coming in hot and they've got what looks like firecrackers." The transmission dissolved into static and James flipped it off.

"Firecrackers?" Juliet echoed, shooting James a concerned glance.

He shrugged. "Steppin' up their game, I guess." He kept a hand on his walkie, awaiting anything suspicious. Juliet was the first one to hear something,

"Footsteps," she breathed, "Get ready."

James blinked. He didn't hear anything. _Don't tell me the Others got super-hearing too._ Suddenly, a crunch in the grass and a loud pop that sounded like gunfire rang in the air. His heart caught in his chest briefly, before he whipped out the walkie. As soon as they came into sight, it was clear they were heading for the van. However, as soon as they hit a break in the path they began to split up. James signaled for everyone to focus; the girl at the head was the one heading for the van. She would be their target.

James had barely radioed to Horace and brought the speaker to his lips before the lights flickered once, twice—and finally switched off. Juliet's eyes were the first to adjust, and she leapt out of the bushes.

The girl skidded to a halt, looking around as more firecrackers went up from other places, followed by loud shouts and the sound of grass breaking a block or so away. She looked around and quickly realized what was happening. She moved to the van, Juliet on her heels, and James after her. The girl hoisted herself onto the roof of the van, spinning around with a lit firecracker in hand. Juliet skidded to a halt and dove to one side as the firework launched itself, bouncing up off the pavement and landing in the bushes.

Not letting herself be distracted, Juliet drew the rifle she had been given, signaling to James to get behind the van.

"Get down. We have you surrounded; we don't want to hurt you." Juliet demanded calmly, returning the girl's glare with a cold stare.

"Where is Ryan?!" She hissed coldly, and Juliet felt her heart skip a beat.

"Come down. Please." Juliet continued taking steps forward, eyes on the girl.

She kept stepping back, back, but Juliet knew she was going to fake a dive off the back and then divert to the side; the way her body was twisted to one side made it plain. Her feet hit the back edge of the van and she hesitates, eyes on Juliet, before moving suddenly to one side, and then diving off the other, hitting the ground.

Before Juliet could even round the van, the lights flickered back on, and James rounded back on the other side, trying to grab the girl. She twisted his arm around and elbowed him in the face, turning to dart and running straight into Phil. Juliet closed in on the other side, pulling James up gingerly by one arm.

The girl spun around, realizing she was boxed in, and begrudgingly held up her hands. "I just want to know where Ryan is."

Juliet felt a twinge of pity, lowering her rifle.

Phil gave the girl a shove. "You're in _big_ trouble." He snapped. James glared at him.

"Let us do the talkin' Barney Fife, just hold 'yer gun."

Juliet blinked, trying to decide whether or not being sympathetic would hurt more than it would help. "All we want is you telling us what you're doing here, and your word you won't do it again, or there will be further repercussions."

The girl slumped a little, groaning. "Look, we just wanted to mess with the Americans. We thought it would be funny."

Juliet gave her a stern look, to which she shrugged sheepishly. "We aren't gonna do it again—but we need to know where Ryan is. He didn't come back with us." She stood up straighter, taking a step toward Juliet. "Give us our friend back and we'll leave you alone."

Before Juliet had a chance to think, James answered for her.

"Listen Jungle Queen, we don't know where 'yer friend is. We forgot to handcuff him, and he ran off and got outside the fence, he's in 'yer territory."

She scowled back at him, trying to decide whether or not to believe him, before sighing.

"Fine, Jesus. We'll leave. Handcuff me or whatever you want, just let us go."

James looked to Juliet to make the final call.

Juliet hesitated, and then took a step back to let the girl out. "Go, take the rest of your friends and don't come back."

The girl skulked past them, picking up the last remaining firecracker and starting off. "I'm just taking this one with me so I can signal the others." She growled, which apparently was her way of saying goodbye.

Phil took a sudden step toward Juliet, face red with anger. "Why the heck did you let her go! She's gonna take that cracker and break something with it!" He snarled, looming over her in his best attempt to be intimidating. Juliet was not in the least intimidated, and simply gave him a cool stare.

James shoved Phil back, stepping in front of Juliet. "Back off, 'yer gettin' on my dang nerves."

"Don't act all high and mighty, you just got here!" Phil waved his gun about haphazardly, and Juliet suddenly tugged James back.

"_Stop, _Jesus, we don't have to fight. Let's get back to Horace." She glanced from Phil to James and back to Phil again, feeling the tension between them. She gave James' arm another tug, and he finally turned away from Phil, whipping out his walkie.

Juliet turned as a firework went off behind her, spinning to see the red light flash briefly in the sky, coming from the jungle across the outlands. She was glad they had gotten this over with without a ton of bloodshed. That was the last thing she wanted.

The sunrise was once again turning the pitch-black sky into a dim indigo, chasing away the brightest of stars. On the edge of the Barracks, where there were no houses to act as a wall against the sweeping Outlands, there was far more of a morning breeze. It wasn't cool, more lukewarm, but it carried the fresh scents of dewdrops and grass. Juliet carefully made her way down from the outermost sidewalk on the edge of the Barracks, where she was given a clear view of the meadow, and the tall grass undulating back and forth in the wind, the sparkling dew making it look like a sea of stars.

Juliet was careful not to slip on the dew-slick grass as she hit a soft valley just where the short and manicured lawn grass blended with the tall, thick wild grass bleeding in from the Outlands, just barely reaching knee-height. Even in the thick tangle of grass blades, she could see where the earth had been disturbed, and after glancing around to make sure she wasn't being watched, she knelt in the grass, placing a hand on the earth.

She was no stranger to death. It practically happened every day in the Others' camp. Living in, or near, the jungle had a fair share of dangers. But no matter how each death happened, she couldn't help but feel responsible more and more for each one. It felt like everything she touched died. Every single woman who came to her without fail would bleed to death on her table, and she'd be the one responsible.

'_Don't hold yourself responsible for this. He was simply a casualty.'_

_He was a kid. Even if death happens often, that doesn't mean each one shouldn't be taken as seriously as if not._

'_Worry, worry—we'll see how long you can last, extending yourself out to everyone that catches your eye. I've always wanted the best for you. I thought you were smart.'_

Juliet grounded herself by taking a lily she had picked from the curated patches of greenery and placing it on the soft, damp earth.

_I don't care what you think._

"Juliet." The voice startled her, and for a moment she thought she had been caught. However, she stood with a sigh of relief to see James, Miles and Jin standing there, nodding toward the inside of the Barracks. "Horace wants to see us in the security office. "

She blinked, and then gently made her way back onto the path. "What for?"

Miles shrugged and took a bite out of the apple he was holding.

Quietly, they made their way through the barracks.

As the sky began to lighten, and the color returned to the surrounding land, the sleepy Barracks residents began to rouse. Lights flickered on in the windows, one by one, as the streetlamps turned off. Windows opened; doors opened. The sound of water running, dishes clinking, people talking, and coffee being poured drifted from them. People began to appear on the paths around them, smiling and nodding hecko as they headed to work. Juliet glanced up at the sky, which was beginning to turn a pastel pink, tinged with sherbet orange at the horizons. Hornbills and canaries perched on the eaves of the houses, chattering and chirping. A few of them flew by overhead, on their own missions. A few more cats made themselves apparent, sunning themselves on porches or striding casually on their own way through the neighborhood. Life went on.

They reached the security station as the pink and orange began to swirl together in the sky. The shadows turning from a pale grey to a cool blue and starting to stretch out toward the west. The quaint little security building seemed even more yellow in the light of the sunrise, mixing with the vivid tropical greenery around it. Jin held the door open for them, leading the way into the reception room. The lights were not on, but the golden sunlight poured in through the windows and stretched in blocks across the room. The sounds of a busy office came from the room over.

The receptionist, Heather, stood up to greet them with a smile. "Morning!" She chirped, "You can go ahead and head downstairs, it's not locked or anything."

Juliet returned her smile as she headed into the cool stairwell, taking in the now familiar moldy scent of the security office, picking up the smell of coffee permeating the air from the monitor room. She opened the door, and blinked, seeing Horace standing on the other side of the white folding table.

"Good morning!" He beamed, motioning to jumpsuits set out on the table. "I have a surprise for you!"

James was the first to inspect the jumpsuits bearing the security emblem, his eyebrows arching as he reached forward to grab one. 'Lafleur' was plainly embroidered on it. Laid out next to that one were others, bearing the names 'Miles', 'Jin', and…

_Juliet_. She could hardly believe the sight of her name on the security jumpsuit, and she reached to gently run her hands over the embroidered name. She looked up at Horace, incredulous.

He rocked back sheepishly on his heels. "We, uh—we don't typically offer these positions to women… But Juliet, you'd make a really good member of the team, we'd be glad to have you." He grinned at her expectantly.

Juliet blinked, realizing everyone was looking at her. She looked down at the jumpsuit, running her fingers over the khaki fabric. She didn't know what to say or think. _'You wanted to save and take care of everyone, what a better way to stress yourself out even more. Go ahead and take it, see how much of the world you can save today.'_

It wasn't that, though. She looked slowly back up at Horace.

"With all due respect, Horace," she started calmly, "I don't know if I could handle the position. I would be glad to help out… But in another way, perhaps?"

Horace blinked, then nodded. "Of course, I understand! You can have whatever role you desire! We always have positions open; we'd appreciate you doing anything to help out."

She returned his smile this time, nodding her thanks. At the very least, she felt a small weight lift from her chest.

By the time they had gotten back to the house, Daniel was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. Juliet moved to him as he offered a feeble smile and wave, feeling his forehead. The fever had broken the night the phone rang, and thankfully he looked good.

"Dan, you're up!" Miles greeted him, pausing suddenly as he saw the flyer on the coffee table.

"They… They stuck it in the door this morning. After you left…" He explained, as Miles picked up the paper flyer, turning it over to read it.

"DON'T FORGET! THE SUB LEAVES IN TWO DAYS

Make your reservation twenty-four hours ahead and be sure to be at the dock three hours before scheduled departure.

Namaste,

Dr. Chang. "

Daniel met his gaze. "Miles… The sub goes to the headquarters. At Anne Arbor…"

Miles frowned, then spun to face Juliet. "Take one look at Dan and tell me he looks good enough to go on a sub in two days." He said sharply, gesturing to the blanket-swaddled Daniel, who glanced at her pleadingly.

She hadn't expected to run into another problem so soon. She took a breath and surveyed the two of them, before letting it out again. "Let's deal with this after breakfast. Please?"

Thankfully, they seemed to agree. The walk to the cafeteria, with Daniel in tow (and Miles watching his every move), was warm and sunny. People waved and smiled and said hi, someone invited them to a party, a cat sprinted out of the bushes meowing happily in greeting, rubbing all over Daniel's legs and almost tripping him. Even Miles didn't seem as irritated by the constant conversation and friendliness this morning, it was as if everything finally felt… okay, for once.

But Juliet knew it wouldn't last, she knew something was wrong the second Jin caught her eye across the table. She looked toward the window. "I think I see Amy outside; I'm going to talk to her." She said, exchanging a glance with Jin, who began to get up as well.

She managed to get them separated from the crowd of people, standing underneath the shady porch of the Cafeteria. She blinked earnestly at Jin.

"Jin, something's wrong. What is it?"

He hesitated before answering, for a moment Juliet couldn't help but think he was trying to decide whether or not to trust her.

"I saw her."

Ice cold dread poured down Juliet's back. She could barely even speak; she already knew the answer to the question before she asked it.

"Who?"

Jin met her eyes, his own full of a kind of concern and fear and apprehension she caught immediately.

"Sun."


	2. Chapter 2

Baby-pink sunlight filtered in through psychedelically patterned curtains, filling the room with a dim, dreamy glow. Outside, the lights in the windows of neighboring houses began to flick on one by one, casting beams of artificial yellow light into the pale lightening air. Soft, ankle-high wisps of damp fog flickered across the alleys and pathways weaving through the neighborhood, concealing the occasional bird or small animal that darted from garden to garden. Though it was early, the sun was already well on its way up, just in time to greet the Barracks residents as they rose for work.

Inside the house, it was as damp and hot as it was outside. The curtains waved listlessly in the draft that seeped in through the improperly sealed windows, bringing with it the dew-laden scent of outside. Everything seemed quiet and serene, as the gentle outside chorus of crickets gave way to early-morning songbirds and the sounds of people in neighboring houses going about their busy mornings.

Miles, wiping sweat off his brow, stomped down the hallway to where the thermostat was nestled next to the front door. James, who had just barely woken up, swung his legs over the side of the sofa and rubbed his face, trying to get his bearings. After sleeping outside for so long, he thought even the couch would be a welcome respite. Needless to say, the unfamiliar surroundings made it near impossible to sleep.

"Jesus, Chachi, do ya really gotta make so much noise this early in the mornin'?" He grumbled, watching Miles fiddle frustratedly with the little thermostat.

After another few seconds of tinkering, he took a step back and huffed. "I cranked it up all the way—it's been on max all night—and I'm _right_ under the vent—and I didn't feel a bit of cold air all night!" With that, the moved to the neighboring window, using part of the tacky curtains to dry beads of condensation off of the inside of the window in order to get a good view of the outside.

"First world problems. Would ya rather sleep outside with Smokey?" James watched him as he made his way to the kitchen, pulling up the curtains on the window over the sink.

"At least there's a damn breeze outside."

James pushed himself off the stiff, tackily patterned couch, stretching as best he could in the small space between the cushions and the coffee table. He didn't know what he expected from a hippie commune on a magic island, but these houses were small. He turned to look at the window, where Miles had wiped a small clear spot amidst the blurry glass, obscured by humidity. The light outside told him it was probably six or seven—but he knew sunrise was earlier on the island, and it was more like four or five.

Still rubbing his aching back and shoulders, he lumbered to the small kitchen, moving toward the coffeemaker. No sooner had he stepped onto the tile had a door in the hall opened, and Jin stepped out and headed for them. He was fully dressed in his new uniform, looking as ready for work as anyone could be.

"Well, if you ain't ready for work." Remarked James, receiving Jin's nod of greeting as he entered the cramped kitchen.

"It is not a job I'd prefer, but I will still do it well." He responded.

"Deep. Waning philosophical this early in the morning?" Asked Miles, who had moved to the fridge and stuck his head inside.

James moved to take one of the discarded coffee mugs from their first night out of the sink and, after inspecting the inside, gave it a quick rinse before placing it on the counter.

"Gross, dude. You need to wash that. It's been in there for like more than a day."

James threw up his hands. "Juliet tellin' me what to do with my life is one thing—"

A door clicked open, and all three heads turned to see Juliet exit her room and enter Daniels. After a moment, Daniel's door clicked open and she exited into the hall alone, moving to the kitchen with a nod of greeting.

"Speak of the devil—Mornin'." James moved aside to let her get her own mug out of the sink. As she did so, she eyed the inside of his.

"Are you going to wash that?"

"For Christ's sake—"

Juliet couldn't help a small smile as she gave her mug a quick wash, turning it over and over in the lukewarm tap and watching pale dawn light reflect on the streams of water, frowning thoughtfully.

"How's 'yer patient, Dr. Burke?"

Juliet froze for a split second, eyes clouding briefly, before sighing and moving to grab a dishrag from the oven handle, meticulously drying her cup. "Daniel's fine, he should be good as new."

James let himself be shoved aside as Miles exited the fridge, triumphantly holding a carton of eggs, and began to forage for a pan in the cabinets under the counters.

"Good, I'd hope he'd be in good shape. You gonna miss us when we leave?" He nodded toward Jin, already dutifully dressed in uniform and looking at the grandfather clock.

"No," Juliet answered flatly as she extracted a bag of Dharma Coffeehouse Roast from the cabinet, though she wasn't able to fully suppress a smile.

"Ah, that's right. You're gonna be busy playin' Mother Hen, I forgot. What are ya gonna do when Daniel leaves on the sub?"

Miles whirled around. "He's _not_ goin' on the sub, _Lafleur_—don't even mention it—" James continued speaking without paying any attention to Miles.

"—Sure, you could find some kids to babysit 'round here if you looked hard enough. Heck, I think Roger has a boy at home—"

Juliet froze, turning to James with a genuine deeply concerned expression. "Roger has a _child?_—"

Miles stepped between them. "Hold it, _Jim_, I thought you were concerned with Juliet takin' your job and now you're concerned with her being bored?" He said, another attempt to change the subject.

James rolled his eyes. "And I thought _you_ could take a joke about this sub business, but _apparently_—"

Juliet groaned jokingly as the coffeemaker sputtered to life. "Can't you wait until you leave the house to start arguing?"

Miles snagged the rubber spatula from the sink behind James, giving him a final look before moving to attend to the pan that was heating up on the gas stove. The scents of coffee, melting butter, and orange juice began to swirl and mix with the early morning air.

Juliet leaned onto her elbows on the counter, watching the coffeemaker begin to stream dark, steaming liquid—occasionally interrupted by a loud, mechanical grinding from the inner depths of the machine that was followed by a sudden spray of coffee grounds into the pot—into the glass pot, slowly filling it. She listened with half an ear to the banter, watching the inside of the glass container begin to steam up with the heat. Her attention was recaptured by Miles.

"Yo, Juliet—I know you ain't the resident house expert—but any idea how to get the air to start workin'? It hasn't done anything all night."

She nodded. "I'll take care of it." With that, she moved curtly to the wall which held the AC. James used this as an opportunity to steal the first cup of coffee from her, pouring into his own (unwashed) mug and then turning to see her work her fix-it magic.

Juliet reached to the thermostat as if to adjust it—and then began to tug it off of the wall, causing James to nearly choke on his sip of coffee. Juliet frowned with the effort, getting a firm grip around the small plastic box and pulling harder, leaning back as she did so.

"Jesus, blondie, you don't have to—"

Juliet put one foot up against the wall for better torque, continuing to tug mercilessly. James put down his cup and moved quickly to see what was happening. Miles whirled around and, upon comprehending the scene, moved to follow him.

"What the—" Miles stopped short, almost bumping into James, as they both surveyed the scene. Suddenly, the thermostat came loose from the wall with a resounding crack, sending Juliet a solid step or two backwards. She bent over to catch her breath, then began trying to pry open the thermostat itself.

James followed Miles' incredulous gaze to the spot on the wall where it had been. There wasn't any kind of hole or wiring, just the remains of the adhesive used to stick on the plastic casing. At first, he thought this was _slightly_ weird—God knows when wireless thermostats were invented.

However, he turned to stare as Juliet popped open the plastic casing and, still panting with effort, placed the upturned halves in James' hands. With that, she turned and walked back into the kitchen to attend to the eggs Miles had abandoned and nearly burnt on the stove.

James and Miles stared down into the remains of the thermostat. There was nothing inside—no wiring, no connections to the wall, not even a little clicker to make sure the dial stayed in place. They blinked, astonished, and then exchanged a glance.

"Ooookay!—First mystery of the day solved, can I clock out now?" He took the casings out of James' hands and went to deposit them into the trash.

Juliet blinked at him, then turned back to the stove with a shrug. "I didn't want it taking up wall space."

James, still stunned, walked slowly back to the kitchen. Jin, who had been watching the entire thing behind the half-wall divider, turned to Juliet.

"How—How do you control the air?"

"From the tunnels." She responded without looking up, as if that clarified anything. It didn't.

After an expectant silence, she clicked off the gas stove and dished the first plate of eggs out to herself, moving to pour an accompanying cup of coffee. "Under the Barracks. There are dials for each house. They were set on a schedule where they'd disperse air to each house at the same time for an amount of time, and then shut it off—I assume it's so they could devote energy to the other buildings. The scheduled dispersal broke, so we had to go down there each time to control the air." She explained casually, turning around and nearly bumping into James as he reached across her to grab his own mug back from the counter.

"Jesus, ain't you Miss Fix-It? Maybe you should work as a mechanic or somethin', I'm sure you'd have this place runnin' smooth in an hour."

Juliet hummed thoughtfully, untangling herself from James. "Maybe. But I don't want to keep showing you up."

Miles groaned and cut in front of James to steal the next ration of eggs, dodging to miss being swatted at with a spatula (and subsequently missed) by James. "Stop _flirting_, it's gross."

James booted him aside for his own plate, and handed one to Jin, who nodded to the window over the sink. "When do we go?"

Sawyer sauntered to the sink to peek outside, where the baby-pink rays of dawn light were transitioning to a sherbet orange. "Calm down, we can take our time. What, ya think Horace is gonna be _mad?_ I'd like to see that."

"He said hell once." Interjected Miles.

"_Once_."

Juliet broke in. "Horace is your boss? I swore his jumpsuit said mathematician."

James froze for a split-second, trying to remember if he had ever paid attention to Horace long enough to read his jumpsuit. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm guessin' he's takin' care of Phil and Jerry since Paul's gone—he was their security head I guess."

Juliet blinked, gaze flickering down to stare at her reflection in the pitch-black coffee. Her eyes clouded briefly. _Paul. The person who was murdered in front of us. _She wondered idly how more people would have to die before their time here was up. She was torn from her thoughts by a sudden tug on her arm, turning to see Miles staring concernedly at her.

"Yo, Juliet—Your patient's up. Go get him." He nodded to Daniel's door, under which light was now streaming into the hall. She nodded dutifully, gently putting down her cup.

Making her way across the crowded living room, her gaze lingered on the windows, briefly scanning the brightening outside. Judging by how quickly the fog dispersed it would be warm today, and most likely clear. She paused at Daniel's door, gently turning the knob.

Light had flooded the room, as had many pieces of half-used, crumpled paper. Juliet squinted in the bright rays of apricot sunlight, realizing the window was open as well as the curtains. Daniel was kneeling toward the foot of the bed, leaning outside of the window, pen hovering on a piece of notebook paper as he studied the outside. Juliet let the door shut gently behind her, rustling the papers as to make him aware of her entrance.

"Daniel?"

After a moment more of craning his neck to see the sky above, he retracted back inside, scribbling haphazardly on the paper before finally acknowledging her. "Oh. Juliet. Good morning." He turned back to his paper.

Hesitantly, she took another soft step forward. "Breakfast is ready," she began, "…and the others are about to leave."

No response, but Daniel's brows pinched slightly. Juliet sucked in a breath before trying again.

"Don't you want to say goodbye to Miles?" She cringed inwardly at her own words, regretting them the second they were said. Too far.

Daniel frowned, beginning to fidget nervously with the pen in his hands. He tensed, gaze flickering over the scribbled notes and diagrams.

"…N—No. I'm fine, thank you…" He murmured a quiet response, fingers twitching around the pen.

She gave a small nod. "Okay. I'll bring you a plate if you'd like." Her gaze drifted to one of the discarded pieces of paper, the notes on which had been completely obscured by tears and scribbles.

"I'll—I'll wait. And come—come out." Daniel added, not waiting for a response before ducking out of the window once more.

Juliet let out a long breath and nodded. "Okay, come out when you're ready."

The living area was now flooded with a peachy golden light, slowly brightening and casting long shadows out from behind the furniture. The sounds of outside—mostly laughing and talking and walking now that everyone was out and about—floated in through the poorly-sealed edges of the windows, nearly drowning out the chorus of songbirds. The scent of coffee permeated the small, cozy house, tinged with the typical old-book scent that accompanied the Barracks houses.

Juliet almost ran straight into James, who was exiting the hall in full uniform, as she left Daniel's room. He caught her smoothly and flashed his dimples. "Easy, Blondie."

She tipped her head to one side and untangled herself from him.

"How's Danny Boy?"

Juliet's gaze flickered nervously to the light flooding out from under Daniel's door. "He's not coming out to say goodbye." She murmured, raising her eyes as Miles rounded the corner in his uniform. He paused, looking between the two of them. Juliet cringed inwardly, not wanting to tell the truth.

"He said he'd rather stay in his room." She explained calmly. Miles' face screwed briefly, before he gave a quick nod and brushed past them in the narrow hallway.

"Aight. I'm heading out, I think Jin's already at the door. Bye." His voice echoed around the corner as he hastily dove out of sight.

James gave a nod and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I guess the chase is on, eh? See you tonight."

Juliet gave a small smile. "Of course. We'll get along fine here." She gently exited the hall to watch as they fiddled with the front door and the iron security door, filing out into the bright sunlight. A rush of hot, damp air flooded though the open door. She closed the iron door behind them, watching the security team round a corner into the bright, vivid, neatly-trimmed greenery. She kept the front door open, letting in some fresh air.

For a moment, it felt quiet in the house. The sounds of outside were nothing more than a gentle ambience as the emptiness of the bungalow began to set in. The only sound inside was the soft ticking of the grandfather clock. For a moment, the sudden silence seemed to envelop Juliet. For a moment, she was somewhere else, standing in the middle of a derelict sun-bleached house that was nothing more than rubble. She was vaguely aware she was drifting again, but her mind seemed to only barely register the feeling; everything felt far too slow and she didn't have the energy to pull herself out of the state. The warmth of the sunlight on her skin seemed to fade, as if she were becoming less and less associated with her own body.

She felt entranced, unable to break herself out. Suddenly, a door creaked open from behind her, and Juliet started awake as if out of a nightmare. She glanced around, taking in her surroundings in an attempt to get her bearings, and turned quickly to the source of the noise.

Daniel timidly exited his room, sweeping a nervous glance around before tentatively making his way into the hallway. Juliet greeted him with a nod as he stepped out into the beam of warm sun, running a hand through his wind-swept hair.

"They're gone." She said, her voice sounding so loud in the quietness of the house.

Daniel glanced out of the iron security door and blinked, then quietly made his way to the kitchen. He stepped into the warmth of the sunlight once more, leaning a little on the counter to keep himself steady. His eyes scanned the far-from-tasteful décor on the counter between the old appliances. The more he looked the less real everything felt, as if it were all some kind of strange dream. He had felt like that since he had stepped out of the helicopter. His eyes drifted to the mugs in the sink, some still half-full. His eyes fell on the only one that had creamer in it, blinking. Miles liked cream in his coffee, he was the only on the science team who did. Daniel swayed a little on his feet, gaze lingering on the half-full mug.

Juliet watched him linger in the kitchen, then quietly moved to open the other doors in the hall, deciding she would busy herself by cleaning. In the Others' camp, there wasn't really the time to clean, between all the goings-on. Though, some nights when she couldn't sleep, Juliet would go around and try to scrub mold off the baseboards or fix the cabinets or fold the linens. It was strange being in a house that wasn't completely decrepit. The carpet was plush and although not tasteful, it was better than the hole-ridden flooring of the modern-day houses.

She ducked into Daniel's room, seeing the window was still open. Normally, she'd keep the windows closed (that is, if they were able to close. Some were cracked or completely missing panes, in which case they'd have to be boarded), not wanting to allow god-knows-what into her house. However, as she took in a breath of the warm, sweet-smelling air tinged with the scent of freshly cut grass, she realized some fresh air might do her good. She went about tidying the room, making sure to neatly stack all the discarded or half-scribbled papers into a pile. Her hand lingered on the sub flyer, eyes flickering over the illustration of the pedestrian sub. Amidst the bright colors and wavy block lines typical of the decade's illustrations, she could easily make out the shape of the _Galaga. _The recognizable features of the familiar sub stung her a little, and she put it down on top of the paper stack a little slower than she did the others.

After another moment of staring wistfully at the submarine flyer, she turned curtly on her heels and stripped Daniel's bed of the sheets to wash, deciding to distract herself as quickly as possible before anything else crossed her mind. Being busy and working hard was, as she had quickly discovered, the best way to keep one's mind off of other things. She tucked the bedding under her arm and walked into the hall, depositing it onto a neat pile in the floor on her way into the room she shared with Jin.

Both bedrooms were almost the same, but this one contained a cot that had been set up. There was only one available at the time, though Juliet hoped they would import more soon as to alleviate her guilt for letting James and Miles sleep in less than comfortable conditions.

Even though she had offered time and time again to take the couch or even the cot, everyone collectively agreed she would take the last remaining bed. She couldn't but help feel—uncomfortable. She didn't dare say suspicious, but _uncomfortable_. She wasn't used to people giving up things for her, at least, without expecting something in return. She collected the bedding and opened the window slightly, just enough to allow in air, and moved to put the bedding in the laundry pile.

As she entered the narrow hallway she nearly bumped into Daniel, who had opened the doors leading to the laundry alcove and was preparing to start the washer. He whipped around, wide-eyed, as Juliet entered. She blinked, then sighed.

"You don't have to help, Daniel." She said, putting down the bedding and moving to look concernedly at the scientist. He had bounced back from his fever extremely quick. Most people who came to the island would get sick during their first week or so, at least, according to Ben.

Daniel raised his chin. "I want to help. I don't want to sit around and not do anything."

"You're not doing nothing, you're going on the sub tomorrow, and you need your rest." Juliet insisted, though she couldn't bear to be mad at Daniel.

He winced visibly at the mention of the sub, tapping his fingers erratically on the top of the washing machine. "I—I don't know, about the sub, I mean."

Juliet looked at him quizzically, not denying help a second time as she let Daniel put the rest of the bedding in the washer. "You don't have to, but I thought you wanted to see how much it would help."

Daniel's bony shoulders drew up and then back down in a shrug, fingers tapping a little faster on the metal top of the washing machine. "It… I don't know. I'd like to go, but… There's just… It's complicated." He struggled to explain, gaze dropping to the dark inside of the washer.

Juliet gently untangled part of the linens from the corkscrew grooves of the agitator, adding soap. It was nice to have a functioning (or, hopefully functioning) washing machine. However, there didn't appear to be a dryer. She nodded sympathetically.

After a moment of brief silence, he continued. "I just—I'd really like to go. It'd help. But I think there'd be… consequences." Juliet closed the top of the dryer and turned it on, moving to the living room once more.

"You should talk to Dr. Chang." The name felt foreign in her mouth yet sent a twinge of deja-vu through her. She froze in place, trying to remember if and when she had heard the name before. "He's in charge of the sub, right?"

Daniel nodded, moving to adjust some of the windowsill figurines, before looking up to study the space on the wall where the thermostat had been. Juliet opened the rest of the windows, taking in the scents and sounds of the neighborhood. This was the most lived-in and friendly place on the island it seemed, it was the only place that even came close to civilization. Sometimes she could even forget she was on the island at all.

A sudden rattling at the front door made her jump, whirling to see a tall shadow looming in front of the sunlight. Her heart caught in her chest, gaze flickering to Daniel, who stood in the shadow of the stranger. As she came into view of the doorway, Juliet stopped to take in the man before her. He wore a snow-white labcoat that, despite his height, went all the way down to cover his feet. He had a drawn face and a businesslike expression and stared down at the two residents. His critical gaze swept from Juliet to Daniel, studying them both silently.

It wasn't until Juliet read the embroidered name on his labcoat that she felt a little of her intimidation recede. Daniel had apparently read it too.

"Dr. Chang?" He started, blinking. Juliet cautiously opened the iron security door. Before she could invite Dr. Chang inside, however, he extended a hand wordlessly to Daniel.

"Faraday." He said, more of a statement than a question. Daniel hesitated, then reached to shake his hand with a nod.

"I'd like to have a talk with you. We usually don't make spaces on the sub, but I feel you'd be an exception." His eyes locked firmly with Daniel's.

The scientist sucked in a deep breath, hesitating for a long while. Then, he released Dr. Chang's hand and stepped forward, squinting a little in the bright sun. "Is there something you need me to do?" His voice wavered slightly.

Dr. Chang blinked at him, his expression betraying nothing. "I'd like you to meet some of our other personnel, at least. You are not in trouble, nor will you be interrogated—but I'd like to make sure we get to know each other." His gaze slid to Juliet. "And I'll make sure he gets back home at a reasonable time."

Daniel turned to look over his shoulder. "I'll be back." He offered as Dr. Chang stepped aside to let him out, not even turning to face Juliet as he turned and began leading Daniel down the path. She blinked, incredulous, and slowly closed the door.

A tightness gripped her chest as she watched them disappear around the corner through the cast-iron of the security door. _'__I don't know what you expected.'_

Miles kicked his feet up on the desk, slumping down in the receptionist chair. The lobby of the security station was so _quiet_, all outside noises muffled by the walls. Figures could be glimpsed darting past the windows, and faint voices could be heard from the nearby Gazebo Quad, a large grassy area which contained the gazebo near the welcome center.

Miles looked up as the door clicked open, another one of those labcoat-clad 'scientists' curtly making her way past the receptionist desk without even sparing a glance in his direction, and immediately entering the nearby offices and slamming the door shut behind her. He didn't recognize her, but then again, they all looked the same anyways. Apparently, the little office area was "off-limits", and access was only allowed to the unnamed researchers. Miles had managed a little glimpse inside before they remembered to close the door, and it looked pretty sketchy. Among the plentiful clouds of cigarette smoke wafting their way to a cracked-open window, he caught sight of an apparent one-way-mirror, and padlocks on the cabinets. Before he could see anything else, one of the scientists stood up and abruptly shut the door in his face without another word.

Miles busied himself by tapping a pen on the desk, gaze flickering over the typewriter and paper stacks. After glancing around the empty, sunbathed lobby, he moved to open one of the many drawers in the desk. The top drawer contained nothing interesting, just some nail stuff and a bunch of stationary. However, the bottom drawer seemed to contain some good reading material. It wasn't chock-full of files like the cabinets in the office, but it had a fair amount to rifle through.

Having been placed in the most boring part of the security station for whatever reason, it was only natural to look for something to do. He rifled through a few of the dividers, trying to see how everything was arranged. The dividers were labelled inconsistently, some titled with last names, others with first names, some with random numbers and letters, others completely blank. Dissatisfied, but still curious, Miles picked a random file and pulled it out, wincing inwardly at how loudly it ruffled the other papers. He peeked up over the edge of the desk, looking to see if the noise had alerted anyone, and then leaned back in his chair with the prized file in tow

He turned it over in his hands, inspecting the front and back pages of what turned out to be a few pages stapled together. The front page didn't have any kind of labelling on it, but when Miles held the papers a little higher and let the sunlight filter through, he could see the silhouettes of letters inside. Eyes darting upward quickly to make sure he was still alone, he turned the first page and curled it underneath the others, revealing the text.

'Dr. Winston,

Regarding your concerns, I feel the matter is not serious enough for immediate interference. The matter in question can most definitely wait until the next inspection. However, I appreciate your honesty.

That being said, the purpose of the experiment is to see how far these things will be taken, is it not? Not that your concerns are unfounded—I would have a hard time witnessing such things without interfering, which is why I work on the mainland—but I'd imagine a certain amount of restraint would be in order to get best results.

I am personally more concerned with the changes having been made to the recently departed files. Only 14 minors in total were listed on the combined manifest, but 17 were counted. I understand that it's hard to keep track of who's in possession of what group of documents in such an environment, but I would like you to place tampering with federal papers higher on your list of priorities. Human rights take priority in other circumstances, I do agree, especially in terms of a ch—'

Before any more could be read, Miles started at the abrupt noise of someone fumbling with the front door handle. Suddenly aware he was reading a very private document; he tried his best to haphazardly shove it in the stationary drawer before the door opened. He looked up, squinting a little in the even brighter sunlight filtering in from outside. His eyes widened as the silhouette came into view, shuffling awkwardly toward the front desk.

"Dan?" Miles stood, glancing around. Daniel had some papers in his hand. He nodded slightly to Miles and gently laid them on the desk.

"Daniel, what are you doing out here? Where's Juliet?" His brows immediately pinched together, frustrated at the lack of verbal response.

Daniel blinked, gaze still lingering on the floor. "'m not out with Juliet." He was silent for a moment, before his dwindling confidence spiked enough for him to raise his chin and uneasily meet Miles' eyes. "T-Those are the testing papers. Dr. Chang said you all still need to do some of the entrance exams, it's just p-procedure." He winced inwardly at the way he stumbled over his words, wishing desperately he could get the stuttering under control.

Miles tensed, frowning. "_You _all?" He froze before saying any more, but his unspoken question hung in the air.

Daniel grimaced slightly, eyes flickering to the ground before meeting Miles' once more in that sad puppy-dog look. "Miles… You know I've gotta—I've—I've gotta fix this. And—"

"That doesn't mean you have to leave." Miles shot back, bristling.

"I… It does. If we want the best chance of… Of being able to be here, and being able to go back, I've gotta go on the sub."

"You _don't_." Miles snapped; a lot more harshly than he meant to. He put a hand to his forehead, trying to take a moment to breathe. He couldn't just _leave_, just go leave them for the real world. Why couldn't he just stay put where—

Daniel shrank back, and Miles swore internally as he saw a flicker of hurt in his brown eyes. Before he could say anything, he noticed a tall shadow looming over the doorway. Daniel turned to glance at it as well, sighing a little.

"I've… I've gotta go Miles." Was all he said, dipping his head and shuffling toward the doorway. He stepped over the threshold and into the sunlight, then moved out of sight with the caster of the tall shadow moving behind him. Miles' heart jumped into his throat as the man, dressed in a labcoat, spared a quick and stern glance into the lobby. Miles barely got a glimpse of his drawn, serious face, but a sudden jolt of familiarity ran through him—something he couldn't quite place but that chilled him all the same.

The front door slammed shut, and Miles sank back into the receptionist chair.

However, just as soon as it had closed, the door opened again—that is, after a fair amount of fumbling with the knob from the outside. The door swung open and Horace stumbled in, a beat-up cardboard box of full of papers in hand. Several of the papers flew out of where they had been haphazardly placed and began cascading to the ground. Miles kicked the heels of his boots against the edge of the reception desk, sending himself rolling back in the office chair. He swung his legs over the side and moved to intercept Horace, who was attempting to pin down most of the runaway papers with his feet while holding the door open at his back.

Miles snagged a few papers off of the floor and shoved them into a bit of empty space in the box, letting Horace stumble awkwardly out of the way and letting the door slam shut behind him. He would have fallen face-first if Miles hadn't reached out to grab him and pull him back. Horace, who was usually all smiles, bore a more nervous expression than Miles had ever thought possible, even for him.

The mathematician regained his balance and thanked Miles with a breathless nod, glancing around the office and hurriedly adjusting his crooked glasses. "Wh-Where's James?" He panted.

"Downstairs." Miles responded, stepping in front of Horace before he could advance. "What's up?"

Horace gritted his teeth and gestured vaguely with his hands, struggling with his words. "I—Okay, it's just—We have an inspection—I _really _need to talk to him, please—" He swerved around Miles and headed for the door, shedding a few more papers behind him as he hurried downstairs.

James' brows pinched in frustration as he leaned his forehead into his hand, which in turn was propped up on the desk. The droning buzz of the flickering monitors was completely drowned by the voices of his coworkers. They were arguing about who was going out to patrol, or at least that's what started the argument, God knows what they were talking about now. Jin, who was supposed to leave on patrol with either of them, stood by helplessly checking the clock.

Phil, despite being lanky, was the most annoying kind of spitfire, a true pain in the ass. The only reason James could think of him being on the team was that he could scare away wildlife with his constant, shrill yapping.

"You come in here high as a kite and you get pissed when I say you're in no state to drive?!" He was saying incredulously, swinging his good arm wildly as if it would help.

"'Least I got two arms." Jerry bit back, and although he was set on driving, he was currently slumped into the chair as if it were a part of him. He was, admittedly, not in the best driving condition, but at least he had a head on his shoulders. He swiveled around in the chair to face Phil, eyes red and glassy. "And I don't get into fights with the janitors." At that, he stood unsteadily to face his taller coworker, though Phil's slouch made them about equal height.

At Jerry's words his face screwed up and he pulled his injured arm, which was tucked in a cast, a bit closer to his body. "Yeah? I guess that's cause if you did, you'd be at the Hydra for weeks. I got away with just a broken arm."

"Still lost." Scoffed Jerry, snatching the keys out of Phil's good hand while he was distracted. "Wouldn't be surprised if he came back to crunch your ribs in for good measure after hearin' your bragging."

James, having finally had enough, whipped around in his chair and stood to grab Phil before he left after Jerry. "You ain't goin' anywhere with 'yer arm like that, Barney Fife, and don't tell me it ain't 'yer fault, Horace said you're stayin' down here." Phil yanked his good arm out of James' grip and glared at him in as much of an intimidating manner as he could muster.

Before he could say anything else, the door at the top of the stairs was kicked open, and James could hear it hit the wall and bounce back violently, along with the sound of heavy, hurried footsteps descending the concrete stairs. The door to the office opened, sending a flickering beam of the fluorescent lights in the hall shining into the dimly lit monitor room. Horace burst through the open door, letting it swing back behind him, papers flying everywhere with the force of the door shutting. He dropped a very full, beat-up cardboard box that looked like it was another stack of papers from collapsing, and then bent over to pant.

"Jesus, the Jungle Cavalry after 'ya or somethin'?" Horace didn't strike James as the most athletic guy, and certainly not the most graceful, so there had to be some reason why he was hauling ass down those stairs.

After a moment of catching his breath, Horace began tugging James into the side room. "I-I really, _really _need to talk to you, man, it's important—" James let the shorter man drag him along rather awkwardly until they were both out of sight from the monitor room.

James raised his brows expectantly as Horace took a few more heaving breaths, giving the impression he wasn't the most avid runner. It was then James noticed the look on his face. Not that Horace didn't always look at least a little nervous, but something was obviously up. For a moment he thought the worst, another Others Invasion, but there hadn't been anything on the monitors.

"We, uh—We've got a real big problem man." Horace panted out, nervously adjusting his now crooked glasses. "'Gonna have some guests earlier than we expected. Told me they were inspecting next Friday but they said they're comin' earlier so—"

"Hold 'yer horses, what guest? Isn't everyone already here?"

Horace seemed to lose his train of thought momentarily, gesturing wordlessly for a brief moment before he seemed to understand. "Oh, yeah, I forgot I haven't told you about—Uhm, you see, Dharma's kinda bein'—uh—_babysat_ by the Feds. They come by every year or so to make sure there's nothing funny going on. Usually we have more time to prepare, but they're gonna come and make sure we're complying with regulations—"

James blinked. "_Have_ you been complyin' with regulations?"

Horace gritted his teeth and sucked in a nervous breath, giving a subtle shrug, which was enough of an answer for James. "Well…"

"Alright, alright," he relented, "Let me put it this way, what do ya need to do? And when are they comin'?"

"Monday, in three days. We need to do a sweep of most of the houses 'n facilities to make sure everything's clean and nothing's there that shouldn't be there." He lowered his voice. "See, we're not exactly supposed to… to tell everyone that they're coming. But we do, 'cause I want everyone to be on their best behavior. They're not gonna break down doors or anything like that, just go over a checklist and take a tour and maybe bring a K-9 or two to sniff around. Nothin' big if everyone's prepared, but…" He trailed off, fidgeting with the collar of his jumpsuit.

"I think I see the problem, Chief. You've got a lotta houses to go over, I'm guessin'?"

"That's where you guys come in. We mostly use the, uh, the honor system here. I don't think there's anything _that_ bad but we're so far from the law, here, y'know, everyone just gets a little loose."

James rubbed his forehead, trying to figure out exactly how long this 'survey' would take and where it would fit with the perimeter sweep they had planned for the afternoon. Since nothin' seemed to happen around here, they could cut out the screen-scrutinizing and put all hands on deck.

"So, just to summarize: we got three days to do some door-knockin' and cleanup?"

Horace nodded vigorously. "R-Right. I know perimeter sweeps and everything are important but I feel like the security team is the only one that can really do it. I mean, you don't have anything big planned, do you?"

James shook his head. "Nah. Just gotta intercept Jerry and snag Miles and everyone's on deck. If you could give us a checklist and a map, I think we'd have it done before the Feds arrive."

Horace wiped the sweat from his brow and started back into the monitor room. "Thanks, man, I knew I could count on you." He began shuffling though the box, snagging a few manila folders and tossing them onto the concrete. "I think this is all you need. Lists of banned items, questions to ask, and a map hopefully in there somewhere."

James nodded, half-listening to Horace ramble on about something as he continued to dig out relevant files from the box, tossing them onto a growing pile.

"…There's a copier downstairs in the welcome center, and I'm sure there's a spare Jeep in the Motor Pool if you need it—And before I forget, did you guys get your testing papers yet? I mean, you're part of Dharma already, and the tests aren't gonna impact your current standing, but we just need some info, right?..."

James had toned out the rambling and just barely registered the question. He looked up with a nod, which Horace took as a good enough answer. He picked up the beat-up box and grabbed a few of the crumpled papers on the floor, tucking it all under his arm as he hurriedly waved goodbye and started up the stairs, just barely keeping enough balance to make it up without falling, and bursting through the lobby back out into the compound.

After realizing Phil was staring at him, James huffed and tossed his head in the direction of the stairs. "Horace says we got some inspectin' to do. Need ya to hold down the fort here, since we're gonna be out." He watches Phil's face screw up, bracing himself for some backlash, but instead the lanky security member whirls around in his chair to face the monitors.

_At least I don't gotta deal with him,_ James thought as he reached for the walkie and began upstairs to fetch Miles, the idea of testing going out of his mind as quick as it had entered.

Juliet set the small, wicker laundry basket down in the freshly cut grass outside the bungalow. Sunlight warmed her skin and she could feel the lingering dew from earlier in the morning brushing off against her as she knelt to start sorting through the pile of damp laundry. She was no stranger to using the Barracks' old washing machines that rattled shrilly through the entirety of their cycle, or the dryers which would refuse to start (in the three years she had lived with the Others, she had never had a success starting the dryer), or the clotheslines outside of most houses.

She dug a sheet out from the basket and grabbed a few clips off the line, brushing the rest of the unused clips to the side to make enough room to stretch the cloth out to dry. As she began pinning it to the line, she was startled by the sound of footsteps from behind her on the pavement. Juliet threw a quick glance over her shoulder, a mix of relief and sheepishness washing over her as a young woman in bright clothes smiled and waved. She silently cursed herself for continually being so jumpy. Even though she was in the same location as before, everything was so _different._ The little yellow houses and the tropical surroundings were really the only thing tying this Barracks back to the one she used to know. The sidewalks were full of people walking by or riding their bikes, the sounds of lawnmowers and schoolchildren filled the air, filling the Barracks with a lively, friendly atmosphere.

Juliet took a step back to see if she had hung the sheet level to the ground, backing up a few more steps as a citrus-scented warm island breeze nudged the sheet toward her, catching a few rays of sunlight in its worn threads. Another set of footsteps from behind her nearly made her start, but she forced herself not to tense as she heard them approach. Then, she heard the crunch of grass behind her and felt someone looking at her. Fear overcoming her for a brief moment, she whipped around to face whoever was approaching. However, another rush of embarrassment washed over her as she turned to see another girl standing in the grass with a friendly smile.

She had dark brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and wore a striped t-shirt that fit snugly to her athletic frame that was knotted messily in the back, and moderately dusty flared jeans. Juliet estimated her to be pretty young, only about sixteen or seventeen. Her hands were clasped behind her back and she took a step forward, unclasping them for a moment to give Juliet a short wave.

Juliet blinked, though she knew the residents of the Barracks were extremely friendly, she didn't expect so many encounters during working hours. And, as far as she knew, most weren't allowed to wear anything but jumpsuits outside of said hours. Still, she raised her head to smile and nod politely in greeting.

"Hello!" The girl chirped enthusiastically. "You must be new here." She walked over to the wicker laundry basket to investigate its contents.

"Hi." Juliet started, her voice faltering subtly as a strange _feeling_ settled over her. She took a moment to think on it. It wasn't a bad feeling, but strange. Something was different. Knowing this, she tried to pick her words carefully. "I am new. I'm guessing you're not?" She went on gently, moving to pick up another damp item from the basket and starting to shake the wrinkles out of it.

"Nope, I came on one of the first subs." She announced, turning to glance at the now empty sidewalk. She rocked thoughtfully on her feet for a moment before looking back to Juliet. "I guess you're one of the pirates, then."

Juliet paused, caught off guard. "…Pirates?" She echoed.

The girl grinned slightly. "I guess you're not real pirates then, didn't think so. It's what most of the younger kids are calling you."

She nodded. "Ah. Word gets around fast here, I assume." She finished pinning the other sheet onto the line and bent to pick up an item of clothing. "Are you in school still?"

"Nope." She answered curtly. "My name's Mary."

"I'm Juliet."

Mary nodded and glanced back down at the wicker basket. "Gosh, that's a lot of laundry. I wish I could help." Though, she didn't exactly say why she couldn't. Juliet decided it best not to ask.

It was then that Juliet realized the sun had cooled briefly, and the pathway was strangely empty. She shaded herself with a hand and looked up at the sky, seeing it as clear and blue as it usually was. It should be sweltering right now. At first, she chalked it up to the breeze turning cool. Though, as she turned back to pin the shirt she was holding to the clothesline, the sheet caught the corner of her eye. It took her a moment to realize what was wrong, it was completely still.

Mary took a few steps in the grass, whistling absentmindedly to herself before she twirled on her heels to face the clothesline again. "You know Amy, don't'cha? I mean, I guess you must since you came here with her. Maybe you should see how she's doing." The suggestion was very out-of-the-blue, and Juliet probably would have questioned it had it come from someone else. However, something about this situation made her consider it.

Juliet blinked, feeling almost no desire to go and talk to Amy. She was as far from a people-person as one could possibly be. What exactly would they talk about, anyways? Paul? The name sent a chill through her. Everyone here was more than friendly (well, mostly everyone), but people still needed time to grieve, right?

Mary must have sensed the questions on her mind and tipped her head to one side thoughtfully. "Amy's the socialite around here, she might be out organizing something. I'm sure there's something you could _help_ with." The way she put emphasis on the world 'help' gave Juliet serious pause. Again, the specifics of this situation were enough to keep her from questioning it too much.

Weighing her options and deciding there wasn't much to lose, she straightened up and took the last few items of laundry under her arm to begin pinning them to the line. "I suppose I should check in on her. And see if there's anything useful I could be doing." She blinked slowly, awaiting a response from her visitor. When she didn't hear anything, not even the crunching of grass behind her, she turned.

A hot breeze that felt like it came straight out of an oven washed over her as she turned to survey the now very empty patch of grass where Mary had been standing. Juliet didn't know what exactly she expected, squinting in the bright sunlight. Footsteps sounded on the pavement again, and a man walked by in his jumpsuit. A minute later, someone else rode by in some other strange, Dharma-Issued uniform on a baby-blue bike, ringing its bell in greeting has they passed Juliet.

She blinked, surveying the area again briefly just to make sure she wasn't dreaming, then turned and began distractedly pinning up the rest of the laundry. Her mind spun, the encounter replaying in her mind. _Help. Useful_. The words had a special draw to her, and she couldn't deny finding something to do for someone else would make her feel much less like she was taking advantage of Dharma's kindness for nothing. They _had_ offered her the security job, but she knew she couldn't take that. Still, she felt extremely guilty. They obviously trusted her to do it, she knew that. But they let her have her own choice in the end.

Of course, she was a woman in the 70s, it wasn't unusual that they weren't forcing her to work and were letting her have the unemployed housewife slot. But there was one thing Juliet couldn't stand and it was not having something to _do. _Not even just housework, something _useful_, something that gave her the right to be here, eating Dharma's food and enjoying their luxuries. They were more than kind and generous, but even then, the guilt kept eating at her. She knew it was just a leftover feeling from her time with the Others, but that didn't make the drive any less strong.

She pulled back from the clothesline to inspect her work, though she spent more time staring into space then she did watching the drying laundry wave listlessly in the hot breeze. She suddenly became very aware of how many of the people passing by and waving were wearing jumpsuits or engaged in some sort of work-related activity, and suddenly felt very strange standing outside in regular clothes doing nothing but laundry. Quickly, she picked up the empty wicker laundry basket and started inside.

The scents of laundry detergent, coffee, and dish soap mixed together with the ambient dusty scent of the house. A subtle rush of room-temperature air greeted Juliet as she stepped inside, feeling much cooler than the heated breeze outside. She let the iron security door click behind her, moderately thankful it was welded with swirling, vine-like decorative shapes rather than generic iron bars. It would make the place look more like a prison than it already felt. However, Juliet had to admit that right here, right now, it looked nothing like a prison.

Neat, spotless shag carpet and shiny new tile covered the floors. The half-open windows that overlooked the clothesline let bright beams of late-morning sunlight illuminate the open living area, catching each and every decorative detail in the sparkling light. Trinkets like the windowsill statues and the fake plants, other items like the full magazine rack and asymmetrically hung blanket draped over the back of the couch made the house look comforting, _lived in_. Dishes were drying on the rack next to the sink, still sparkling with water droplets, and the coffeemaker still held the remains of the last pot it had poured, pairing with the ready-to-use mug sitting next to it. Everything looked picture-perfect, picked right out of the heart of suburbia. No secrets, no conditions, it was so perfect Juliet didn't even feel she had the right to be there. However, she sucked in a breath, deposited the wicker basket in the laundry closet where she had found it, and decided she'd better head to Amy's before she started talking herself out of it.

"Star Wars isn't even out yet! It isn't even a twinkle in someone's eye right now, and Star Trek's been running for like eight years!"

"Yeah, like bein' out earliest means it's best. Just means it's tryna do a science fiction story with the budget of a ham sandwich!" James punctuated his statement by hitting a bump in the winding pathway, one of the few sidewalks wide enough to drive a van on. They were lucky this wasn't a very busy time, being that everyone's at work, otherwise they'd have to be constantly beeping the horn.

Miles jolted, remembering the van didn't have seatbelts just in time to grab the edge of his seat to prevent him from soaring upwards and hitting the ceiling of the van. "I hope that wasn't a cat."

James rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore the comment. Miles turned around to look out the back window of the van, staring over Jin's head as he tried his best to sit comfortably in the back of the van. Some of them had more than two seats, but most didn't in order to get extra storage space.

"Yeah, that was definitely a cat."

"You do realize ya don't have to talk the whole time, right?" The van took a sharp curve to the left, and then stopped abruptly. "This it?"

Miles fumbled for the makeshift map he had scribbled some directions onto before they'd left, looking around at the house numbers. This was the farthest they could get to the first ten or so houses in the van, they'd have to walk the rest of the way as the sidewalks weren't wide enough.

"Yeah, let's get going. I wanna have time for a lunch break."

"If we keep goin' at this pace you'll have your lunch break at 10pm and yer dinner break at 2 in the morning."

Miles swung open the passenger door of the van and hopped out, snagging the clipboard on his seat and tucking it under his arm. A blast of hot air hit him immediately, and he squinted in the bright sunlight.

As everyone else departed the van, he took the time to look around, spinning on his heels to get a good view of his surroundings. The wide pathway on which their van was parked continued for another foot or so and then hit a fork, where it divided into two smaller pathways. One went straight and the other took a sharp curve. The curved one, as much as he could gather from the map, was the path they should take. All around him were the backs and sides of several yellow bungalows, all bordered with small patches of trimmed greenery.

Miles took a few steps and craned his neck to see down the straight path. From where he was, he could see it going straight for a long way and taking a gentle curve. He could see someone's lawn and part of their front porch, but not much else. The curved path didn't offer much except greenery from where he was, but over the decorative trees he could see the tops of more houses.

James tucked his keys into the pocket of his jumpsuits, studying his own clipboard and frowning as he read the list of questions. "You seen what we're supposed to ask 'em?"

Miles opted to pad over to James and peer over his shoulder rather than look at his own clipboard, glazing over the list. "'Have you or anyone else in your household kept personal records such as diaries or planners since the last interview? If so, could you offer them up for inspection?' What is that supposed to mean?"

"Guess we can't keep diaries here, that's a shame." James responded, flipping to the next page.

"And put the Polly Pocket notebook I ordered off the sub for you to waste? Bummer." Teased Miles, striding toward the curved pathway, map in hand, to find their first victim.

House 174 was the first one on the left, bordered on one side by a thick artificial copse of mainland trees and native flowers, and on the other by a gentle furrow where the yards of 174 and 173 met. Miles was the first to step onto the sidewalk leading up to the front porch. Unlike the porch of their own house, this one sported two steps leading up to a concrete porch that spanned the width of the frontmost façade and was sheltered by the roof's generous overhang. The house itself looked different at first glance than its neighbor, and as Miles took a few steps forward to see what exactly he was dealing with, he gradually took in the eccentric details.

Firstly, the front door was open, which wasn't exactly uncommon. Though Miles didn't know anything about island life, he'd assume one would leave their iron security door shut at least, instead of leaving both doors open and letting God-knows-what wander in and out. His eyes strayed to the windows, and he froze as something sparkling caught his eye. It was hard to get a feel for the depth of the house at first, and at first glance he thought that there was a bookcase, or something backed up against the window. As he got closer, the obstructions revealed themselves to be _stuff, _piled almost waist-height next to the window. The piles seemed to contain boxes, small items of furniture, cloth, and miscellaneous crafts and décor items. That, however, was not the source of the persistent glimmering and shimmering from the window. Miles scanned it once more, revealing scores of small, glass trinkets, suncatchers, and crystals lining the window. Different cuts of gems and crystals cluttered the windowsill, spanning from hunks of quartz to neat cuts of agate, and some Miles couldn't even identify. The remaining glass of the window was covered with all kinds and sizes of glass suncatchers, some handmade, all gleaming in the late morning sun.

Miles skipped both of the small concrete steps and went straight up onto the porch, which contained a few chairs, some stacked on top of one another, and a few rugs and blankets either draped over the furniture or laying haphazardly on the cool concrete floor. James was the first one to bend to inspect one of the rugs, cringing a little as what had appeared to be dust turned out to be a fine layer of shed cat hair coating the applicable rugs. The use of the scattered cloths became even more apparent as a scrawny tuxedo stray dove out from underneath one of the stacked chairs, clearing the concrete porch in a single bound and flying into the safety of the greenery nearby.

As Miles and Jin cautiously approached the doorway, letting their eyes adjust to the dim inside, another black and white cat strode confidently out of the doorway. James rubbed at his nose as he spun around, making a sudden dive for the cat.

"Yo, LaFleur, what the h–?" Miles exclaimed as James attempted to hold down the squirming cat and grab at its neck. The cat fluffed out its fur and hissed, finally ducking out of range as it bounded a few steps out of reach, groomed its chest embarrassedly, and continued striding. James rubbed a scratch on his hand for a moment, and then pulled up what he had pulled off of the cat. A shard of howlite on a string, which apparently had been hanging around its neck.

"I got a feelin' that ain't his." He jerked his head to where the thief in question was lingering on the sunlit sidewalk.

"Jeez, man, if Juliet saw you wrangling that cat like that…"

James stood to his full height and frowned at him. "Well, good thing she ain't here, Enos." Both of them turned and realized Jin was staring into the doorway and followed his gaze.

The dimly lit interior of the house was now obscured by a short woman in her sixties, almost snow-white hair pulled back into a bun and wearing a floor-length, eccentrically patterned purple robe that seemed befitting of a psychedelic shaman. She blinked at the three men through cloudy spectacles, smiling knowingly in greeting. Another cat was winding around her ankles, also bearing a tiny crystal necklace around its neck.

Jin was the first to look at the list of houses and their inhabitants on the clipboard. "Miss… Dziwne?"

Ms. Dziwne gave a small nod, scanning the small group on her porch. "Good morning. Another inspection so soon?" Her voice oozed calm and collected energy.

James quickly regained his composer. "Yeah, jus' need 'ta come inside and ask a few questions is all. I take it you've done this before?"

She gave another small nod, the cat at her heels winding a few more times before ducking back into the coolness of the house, joining a few other wiry silhouettes climbing over the stacks of clutter inside.

James sniffed. "Well, that makes one of us." He held out his hand. "'Name's Jim Lafleur."

She reached out as if to take his hand but reached past his outstretched palm to take the howlite from his hand, inspecting it. "Oh, poor Cow, he never got to take his crystal past the porch, I think he was excited to carry it too."

"Did—Uh, Ms. Dzwine, did you give it to the cat on purpose?" Asked Miles, peeking out from around Jin.

"Call me Diane. Yes, they take them wherever they're needed to be." Her gaze lifted from the howlite in her palm back to James, who was staring confusedly. She held his gaze and gently placed the shard back in his palm, enclosing his fingers around it. "I feel like this one's found its owner."

Miles ventured forward, "What's _that_ one for?"

Diane squared her shoulders and smiled knowingly. "Howlite. It's for anger management." After a quick moment of silence, she turned and gracefully stepped inside, beckoning for the others to follow. Jin ducked in first, but Miles lingered before stepping in, snickering a little at the dumbfounded James.

"What are you laughin' at, Miss Cleo?"

The inside of the house was thankfully cool, offering relief from the growing heat of the day outside. It wasn't as cluttered as it looked from the outside, with most of the _stuff _gathering at the walls and edges of the house, leaving clear pathways to walk through. It certainly wasn't as bad as it looked at first glance.

The sound of windchime-esque clinking from above drew Miles' eyes to the ceiling, where thin geode cuts were hanging like stalactites from the roof of a cave, all twirling and clinking lazily in the air. Diane made her way to the kitchen with a catlike gracefulness, where the counters were covered with all kinds of vials, mortar-and-pestles, and tea boxes. She sat down in one of the less obstructed chairs and pulled close a lava lamp for light.

Miles lingered in the kitchen, inspecting all the clutter and décor. He had to admit, he expected a hippie commune to have more nutcases, even though most residents were upstanding PTA moms and well-respected white-collar-workers plucked right from the heart of suburban America. It was the seventies, after all, though perhaps the whole flower-power spirit had burned out by '74 or whenever they were.

James flipped a few pages back on his clipboard, scanning for the questions list, on which Horace had scrawled a bunch of "helpful" additions.

"Aight, got any unregistered weapons? Firearms, huntin' knives…"

Diane shook her head. "You can check the files for the katana registration, that's the only weapon I have on—"

James blinked. "The… The katana?" Diane nodded to the wall directly behind him. He followed her gaze, turning to see that there was, indeed, a katana proudly displayed on the wall next to a cat-shaped clock and photos of presumed grandchildren. He moved to check it off his list and move on to the next question.

By the time they were through the inspection of the house, Miles felt thoroughly beat. He was sure everyone else felt the same; Jin was leaning exhaustedly against the wall and James, who was apparently allergic to cats, was continually rubbing his nose. They made their way down the steps, squinting in the bright sun.

Miles ducked under a particularly low tree branch as they trudged through one of the many grassy quads interspersed throughout the neighborhood. James tailed him, complaining about the heat. Jin, however, took the sidewalk around, having said something about not wanting to ruin the grass. Admittedly, the route had far less shade and respite from the sun, though faster. Right now, all Miles wanted to do was get this done so he could go home and—well, he hadn't exactly thought that far. But it would be better than sweating his ass off going door-to-door like a Girl Scout.

Miles emerged onto the sidewalk and sighed in relief as he paused in the shade, glancing over his clipboard and trying to see the next house. Every single one apart from Diane's had been boring, just a typical cookie-cutter suburban house, each holding their own Betty Crocker inside. All that were home today, it seems were homemaking moms who didn't have jobs. He wondered, exactly, if they would offer Juliet _any _job, apart from security.

It was all the same: go through the checklist, ask questions, get answers, check things down and poke around the house a little. So far, he had been offered coffee, tea, water, cookies, brownies, and a lunch invite from the overbearingly friendly resident homemaker of each house. Sure, they were friendly, but Miles didn't appreciate _any_ social interaction, especially with pretty much the same exact person. Did they only hire people with one personality?

House 154, one of the last on the list, sat just two 'blocks' from their first houses. It really didn't help anyone that all the houses were numbered randomly and out of order, making it completely nonsensical to try and find one's way around by following the pattern of each house's number.

154 was one of the smaller houses, but not quite as downscaled as the ones at the east end of the Barracks looked. It had a front yard shaded by a large native tree, and its own little sidewalk leading up to the shaded porch. It was set a little further into the block than the surrounding houses, exposing the other houses white picket-fences, presumably holding backyards. Miles padded under the shifting shadows of the tree, disinterestedly scanning the front door.

The windows were open, letting in the breeze, but Miles' eyes didn't adjust enough to let him see inside. He didn't care that much, anyways. In fact, he didn't care at all. He hated to admit it but talking to middle-class housewife after middle-class housewife sparked a kind of jealousy in him. Not that he wanted to be a housewife, but the fact that the big, homey, cozily decorated houses holding women who seemed like they'd never had an economic trouble in their lives; it seemed like such a hard contrast to what he had grown up with. He was less than pleased at having to go through this process with at least a few more houses, and 154 was no different.

He scaled the porch steps easily, giving a half-hearted knock on the door. A few seconds went by without a response, during which time James went to peek inside the window. Miles frowned at him.

"Not very professional of you."

James jerked his head out of the half-open window, nearly hitting it on the raised sill. "Quiet, Enos. I'm just lookin' to see if anyone's home."

"See anything?" Miles knocked again and pressed his ear to the door.

"Nah." James sauntered to the other window and gave the inside a cursory glance. "Probably flushin' some contraband."

"Or maybe nobody's home. _Or_ maybe they're calling security after seeing some scraggly-ass guy sticking his head in the window."

"We _are _security!" James patted the walkie on his side, frowning. As he did so, it turned on suddenly, first blaring static and then mumbled words. He fumbled with the ancient technology for a second before finally clicking the right button.

"—James? Uh, I don't know if you can hear me, but—" It was Horace, his voice going in and out. "Don't know what house you're at—"

"Can barely hear 'ya chief, we're at 154, what do 'ya need?"

"—Oh, I was going—This is good timing—You need to follow the extra procedures—in the back of your clipboard. This house—be careful—" It was at that point that the weak signal gave out and produced a garbled mess of smashed syllables and blaring static. James groaned.

"'Aight, can't hear 'ya anymore, we've got it handled," And with that, he silenced the walkie. He and Miles exchanged a glance. Miles raised his brows. _These people either have the worst or the best timing._ Suddenly, the door and screen door of the house opened. _Speaking of great timing_—

Miles whipped around to face the door, expecting to see—well, something _dangerous,_ or whatever Horace thinks is dangerous. However, he wasn't expecting to see a young woman in the doorway. Something about her, however, was different. She had a different air to her, something about her was far less obnoxious.

James cleared his throat, adjusting the cuffs of his jumpsuit. "'Afternoon, ma'am. We're here for an inspection."

Her eyebrows went up slightly, but she took a step back and motioned inside. "You can come in."

Miles was the first to duck into the house, glancing around to see what exactly was considered "dangerous" inside. However, it looked pretty normal. That is, until his eyes focused. Miles stopped just inside the front door. Something was _off_ about this place, but he couldn't really place what it was until he looked to the window James had looked into. There weren't any trinkets on the windowsill. Even the unoccupied houses had their sills lined with little figurines and fake plants, but this window was comparatively spotless. As Miles turned his attention to the rest of the house, unease pervaded the air at how _empty_ it was. Blank walls, blank shelves, nothing but appliances and some barren furniture. There wasn't even the for-show thermostat on the wall by the living room where it usually was.

Miles, temporarily forgetting what he was doing there, stepped onto the linoleum kitchen floor, the sound of his boots on the tile suddenly very loud. It seemed quieter in here. Despite all the windows being open, he felt like all outside sounds were muted, replaced with a dull nothingness.

Jin was the last to step into the house, sharing an unsure glance with the other two security members. James sauntered to the kitchen and tapped Miles on the shoulder. "Think you can take this one?"

"What, you scared?" Miles raised his brows.

James subtly motioned to the girl now standing in the center of her living room, staring out one of the open windows. "You ain't?"

With a huff, Miles shuffled the papers on his clipboard to the list of questions and tugged a blank page out enough to write on. Might as well entertain himself, seeing as there wasn't really anything to look at. The girl raised her eyes and nodded politely to him.

"Do you want some co—"

"Nope, just need you to have a seat." If one more person offered him a coffee, he'd swear he'd scream. She blinked at him, then obediently pulled out a chair and sat down. James shuffled past them to free up room in the narrow kitchen, turning to glance back at their interviewee.

"Mind if we look through 'yer… stuff?"

"I don't mind, I'm used to it at this point." She replied nonchalantly, not even looking up from the table. There wasn't any bite or passive aggressiveness to her words, but it caught Miles off-guard nonetheless. Though, considering it wasn't the weirdest thing he'd heard today, he brushed it off and decided to push through.

Miles scanned the list of questions, and then flipped to the back of the clipboard to see what these "extra procedures" were for.

"EXTRA PROCEDURES: HOUSE 154

DO NOT LET RESIDENT OUT OF SIGHT

DOUBLE-CHECK EVERYTHING!  
NOTE ANYTHING SUSPICIOUS"

Miles raised his eyes from the clipboard to the resident in question, who was casually staring off to the left, watching dust particles in the sunlight from the open window. He squinted a little, trying to scrutinize her as much as he could. What, was she another Austen? Tough criminal record?

If he was going to be nosy, he could at least be professional about it. Miles flipped back to the question list, keeping the "extra procedures" in mind.

"Alrighty, question one: full name?"

"Taylor."

"…No last name?" Miles met her gaze. She blinked back at him, unfazed.

"Nope. Just Taylor." _If that isn't suspicious, I don't know what is_.

"Ookay then. Birthday?"

"I'm not sure."

"I—You're not sure when you were born? Do you know the year?"

She shook her head. "No, there's an estimate of my age and birthdate on-file though."

Miles gave her a long, hard look. For once, he genuinely had no words. His first interview of the day and she didn't have a last name or a birthday, great. His next question wasn't exactly on the list, but he couldn't help but ask.

"Is there, uh, any reason you don't know when you were born or what your last name is?"

Taylor looked fazed for once, brows furrowing slightly in confusion. "I… Are you new? They put everything in my file."

Miles' gaze flicked upwards to where Sawyer and Jin were going through the drawers in one of the rooms, out of hearing range. Jin pulled some beat-up looking clothes from the drawer, placing them neatly in a pile next to him. He froze briefly, hand hovering above the drawer, before reaching down and slowly pulling up a knife of some sorts, showing it to James.

Refocusing to the current situation, his gaze moved from the knife to Taylor, who was patiently waiting to be asked the next question. Her clothes were different too. Not that the Dharma wardrobe wasn't cheap, but they looked worn in a different way. Relatively plain and familiar-looking. Almost handmade.

"Uh, never mind." _Nice security work Miles, not even gonna ask about the suspicious knife._ "Anyways, you got anything we don't know about? Weapons, contraband, sharp knifey things…"

"A hunting knife. It was a gift; I don't use it. Horace allowed me to keep it."

"Where'd you get it?" Miles continued, trying to look busy by doodling on the clipboard.

"A friend."

He met her gaze and held it for a moment. The temporary intrigue of the situation was beginning to fade, and Miles was starting to get bored again. He decided not to press the issue, glancing down at the unasked questions.

Miles huffed, not happy with all the repetitive and invasive listed questions. He'd never been one for things like rules or order, and nobody really cared about that here anyways, so he decided it would be better to entertain himself than to do nothing.

"You know what?" Miles shifted in his seat, pushing the clipboard and pen aside and glancing quickly to where Jin and James were still occupied in the bedroom, and leaning in a little closer to the table. "I don't want to be here asking you all these stupid questions, and I can tell you don't wanna do this either, right?"

She blinked but didn't speak up, raising her brows slightly in intrigue.

"So, let's make a deal. We can do whatever until the other guys come back out here. And if anyone asks, we've been havin' a serious and important conversation, got it?"

Taylor smiled a little, endeared, and nodded. "That's nice of you."

There was a moment of silence. Miles looked off to the side, never having been much for social interaction anyways and now having nothing to say. Taylor's gaze drifted back down to the table, where she was fidgeting absentmindedly with the lace doily, which was pretty much the only decoration in the kitchen area.

"I'm guessing they let you have more decoration in your house—bungalow, I mean." She corrected herself, breaking the silence and looking up to meet Miles' eyes.

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. "I didn't say _you_ could start askin' _me_ questions." He snorted, but when she continued to stare expectantly at him, Miles heaved a sigh and decided to answer for the fun of it. "Yeah, yeah. They gave us a house complete with the ugly curtains and weird-ass statues stacked from floor to ceiling, the whole shebang."

Taylor's soft smile flickers from polite to genuine. "I guess they thought your 'ship captain' talking with Richard was a massive favor and wanted to pay it back."

He eyed her, trying to remember who exactly was watching when that whole thing went down. He couldn't really remember anything except that one lady's house they were unceremoniously shoved into during the lockdown.

"Yeah…" He trailed off, hoping maybe she'd offer some kind of explanation as to why she knew so much about how they got here. Come to think of it, Miles didn't even think they'd told anyone but Horace the ship story.

Rather than offer an explanation, she tucked a hair behind her ear and stared wistfully off to one side. "You know," she began, "this place looks really nice from the outside. It looks beautiful. But it's not really like that." She shrugged. "I mean, I guess that's true of everything."

Miles had never been one for waning philosophical at one in the afternoon. "Yeah, I've always loved picture-perfect suburban neighborhoods, just the place to get away from everything." He doubted she'd sense the sarcasm in his tone.

"I came here to get away from everything, or most things at least," she echoed his statement. "Didn't work out the way I had planned, but I like to see the best in everything, you know?"

_Jesus, lady, I know. _He had to force himself not to roll his eyes at the 'everything will turn out alright' sentiment. He had to wonder, though, wherel this chick was from if she thought _this_ place would be the answer to all her problems. 'Course, he and the rest of the 'shipwreckers' had come here, but what other choice did they have?

He felt the urge to just get up and leave, but whether it was boredom or curiosity, something spurred him onward. "Doesn't really seem worth it to try and 'get away from things', they just follow you anyways; so, I mean, why not just go wherever you want to?" So much for not waning philosophical.

She tipped her head, considering this. "That's true, I guess. But that assumes things won't ever get better."

_Yeah, that's usually how I think. _

Taylor continued. "It's a depressing view to have."

"Life is depressing." Miles leaned back and tossed his pen up and down in the air.

She frowned. "It doesn't _have_ to be." Sensing his discomfort, she changed the subject. "This place in general is depressing enough already."

Miles snickered, finally having something to agree with. "Yeah, a real party central. I mean, you seen the way these people dress?—"

"Hey Chachi—we ain't bein' paid to flirt on company time, let's get movin." Miles looked up abruptly as James meandered into the room, hands in the pockets of his jumpsuit. Jin trailed behind him, silent, as usual. Miles quickly put down his pen and took his shoes off the table, smile vanishing off his face.

James swiveled on his heels to face Taylor and fished the hunting knife out of his pocket. "This 'yers, little lady?"

She reached up to take it from him with a nod, but he retracted it slightly with a shake of his head. "Hold on, hold on—I ain't saying having a giant hunting knife in ya sock drawer is suspicious, but—"

Miles figured he'd already embarrassed himself enough today, and that a little more wouldn't hurt. "Cool it, LaFleur, she says Horace let her keep it."

James frowned. "How do _you _know?"

"I'm observant, give the knife back. Let's get moving."

James raised his hands defensively as Miles shouldered past him, huffing.

"Alright, alright, if 'ya say so. But if 'yer friend here uses it for somethin' very un-Dharma, I'm not taking the blame 'fer it."

Taylor accepted the knife and nodded. "Thank you."

Miles opened the door for James, murmuring to Jin as he walked through,

"Stabbing people seems pretty Dharma to me."

Juliet shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. Amy's house wasn't one she recognized from her own stay at the Barracks, but the size and neatness of it daunted her. It was surreal to see such a well-kept house on the island, even the Barracks houses she saw three years ago were all varying degrees of unkempt. Most of the houses that had been saved from ruin were the smaller ones, like the one the Shipwreckers were staying at.

Amy walked briskly past the doorway again, carrying in the rugs she had been shaking out on the porch. "I said you can come in!" She chirped brightly. "I need someone to make me a pot of coffee anyways," she added jokingly, going back to tending to the house.

Juliet smiled politely, trying to push back any feelings of awkwardness. She stepped gingerly onto the… _uniquely_ colored shag carpeting. The house smelled like fresh air and clean laundry. All the windows were open, a broom was propped up against the kitchen doorway, and Amy was currently busying herself with dusting the windowsills.

Not that _any _reactions to grief were strange but seeing Amy so cheery after the events under which they met—namely, Paul's death—was unexpected. Though, Juliet wasn't really sure what she was expecting in the first place. She picked her way across the carpet, not wanting to get in her way, and headed for the coffee maker.

As Juliet turned it on, Amy glanced over her shoulder from where she was dusting the top of a window on her tiptoes. "Oh, I was joking, you don't have to!"

"No, it's fine. I came here to help anyways." _And I think I need some too._ Over her years as a scientist and island doctor she'd come to rely on it more and more. After all, sleep was sparse on the island. She listened to Amy bustling around behind her with half-an-ear. _I guess cleaning to cope isn't that strange._ She reasoned.

She went to fish a bag of the usual 'Dharma Coffeehouse Roast' out of the cabinet, opening and closing a few until she found the right one, however, she was surprised to see something else sitting up there. Behind a few of the mugs was a tin of coffee grounds. At first, Juliet thought maybe it was the lighting, but as she picked it up and inspected it, she realized it was _red. _Every Dharma product, past and present, was white with black labelling—or very rarely, the inverse. She turned it over in her hands to look at the labelling. Sure enough, it was a genuine, brightly colored tin of Folgers mountain-grown coffee.

The very idea of a red tin that looks like it'd just been picked off a supermarket shelf sitting among the monochrome Dharma-branded rations was so strange to her. In all her years here, Juliet had _never_ seen a name-brand product. Dharma branded their own contacts, brushes, toothpicks, cigarettes… If she didn't know any better, she'd think name-brands were outright banned.

The sound of the broom tipping over and hitting the linoleum startled her, and Juliet turned around to see Amy making her way into the kitchen. Suddenly, she noticed Juliet holding the tin.

"Oh! I guess you've found my little secret, huh?" Juliet didn't respond at first, not entirely sure how serious she was. Amy smiled mischievously, rocking a bit on her heels.

"Horace got it for me from off-island, said he had to sneak it on the sub himself." She giggled, taking the tin and beginning to scoop out some of the grounds. She lowered her voice in a kind of mock whisper. "Guess we aren't supposed to have non-Dharma stuff."

Juliet smiled. "He must have cared about you a lot to take the risk."

Amy snorted. "Yeah, this is probably the only brand-name we have here! But you won't tell anyone, right? Don't want them _all_ asking."

"Of course not." Juliet watched as she dumped the grounds into a waiting filter, humming cheerily as she did so. It was hard not to compare her to Rachel, who was always the more upbeat sister. She loved cleaning and cooking as well. One of Juliet's earliest memories is the two of them being asked what they'd like to be when they grow up, and Rachel's very enthusiastic answer was that she'd like to be a mom and have twelve kids. It was funny, but as times changed, she seemed more serious about it. Juliet didn't doubt Rachel would make a good mom, but it was something she couldn't see herself doing personally.

Amy poured two cups and bustled to the seating area next to one of the open windows, placing them gingerly on the table. Juliet followed a bit awkwardly, taking a seat in the plush, clean living chair and glancing around the tidy house. Needless to say, the environment was far from what she was used to. Juliet picked up her mug as Amy disappeared into the kitchen, taking a slow sip as she wondered what to say.

"How much cream and sugar do you wan—" Amy, hands full of half-and-half bottles, paused abruptly as she saw Juliet drinking the stark-black coffee.

"Do you really drink it like that all the time?" She enquired enthusiastically, dumping a ridiculous amount of the cream in her coffee as she bent to look and make sure that Juliet was indeed drinking black coffee. Juliet, meanwhile, blinked confusedly.

"I prefer it that way." She explained simply.

"Even Horace doesn't drink it black," she continued, putting the condiments aside and sitting down to stir her own cup. "He's always real busy, you know, dashing around everywhere. I get tired enough as it is sorting papers!"

"Sorting papers?" Juliet inquired.

"Mhm, I don't have a set job around here, just help out where I can. Horace said my job is 'keeping our morale high,'" she beamed, turning to glance out the window. Juliet followed her gaze.

"Do you like it? Living here, I mean," she asked gently, gaze falling on a group of children playing in a quad just barely in view from around the corner of the next block.

"Hm? Oh, of course I do! This really is a great place, just our own little community in the middle of all this scenery. I'm glad to be a part of whatever I can," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gaze falling on her distorted reflection in her light-colored cup of coffee. "I don't do any of the science stuff, I dunno about any of that. But keeping everyone happy? That's something I can do."

_Keeping everyone happy, sounds a bit like my job. _Juliet nodded, more content to listen than to talk. "How'd you get involved here? Did you have any connections off-island?" Since Amy was already more than fine with talking, she might as well sate her own curiosity.

"I met Horace when we were both on the same mission to South Africa, when he was still married to his ex-wife. He got me into some really cool places there, and we had a lot in common." Amy turned to one of the many tribal-looking artifacts that decorated the walls of the Barracks houses; specifically, a dark wooden mask resembling the head of a deer or a gazelle, the snout and long, twisting horns decorated with small shards of brightly colored glass or ceramic in a way that resembled a mosaic. Juliet tipped her head to one side as she inspected the mask, admiring the way the light danced off of the colored shards.

"He took me to all kinds of dinners and the like in the Portland area, and one day he offered me and Paul a spot on the sub." She continued to stir her coffee, smiling wistfully into the cooling liquid. "'Course we took it immediately, probably the best decision I've ever made!"

Juliet waited for any kind of emotion or hesitation after the casual mention of Paul's name, but didn't see any. She nodded understandingly. Coming to the island herself was the worst decision she'd ever made, but she could see why Amy would love this place. What wasn't to love? Other than the 'hostile' natives, of course.

She hesitated before asking her next question. "You and Paul met off island too?" Juliet waited for any kind of overly negative reaction, any sign she'd pushed a little too far, but Amy still seemed as chipper as ever.

"Oh, yes! We worked at the same company. He had a wife too, but at nights he'd work security, since I was pretty much the only one in the office during the nights he'd come and visit me a lot." She smiled nostalgically at the memory.

Juliet couldn't help but take in each minor piece of information. Horace has an ex-wife, Amy's been with two men who've had ex-wives, she's been to South Africa, she has connections in the Portland area… It made her cringe inwardly, realizing she hadn't fully trained herself out of her former way of life. She wished she could just listen to people, and not file away every small detail about them as if she needed to use it against them.

"What did _you_ do off-island?" Amy looked up at her expectantly, no kind of bite or suspicion to her words, just boundless curiosity.

The question made Juliet's heart jump in her throat. She should have seen it coming, she supposed. She sucked in a breath, the thought of having to lie one more time made her sick, but it _was_ for other's safety this time. She hated how _easy_ it seemed to come to her, analyzing everything James had said and churning out a fake story with picture-perfect accuracy.

"I was training to be a pediatrician but went into general medicine instead. I've always been kind of a history person as well, and someone I know contacted me with an offer to board the ship. I didn't have much to lose, so I went." Only half a lie, she supposed.

Amy nodded and listened intently, sipping her cup. "So you're a doctor? That's so cool! It's such a man's job, I don't ever think I could do something like that. Especially if you're like a _doctor_ doctor, and people's lives are depending on you, that sounds super stressful."

Juliet sucked in a breath and nodded, trying not to let the flow of bad memories invading her mind reach her eyes. "It can be stressful, but I did it because I liked helping people."

"I bet the ship crew was glad to have you on, then!"

Juliet stared down into her own cup, blinking. The flickering light reflecting off of the coffee was beginning to agitate her a little. She'd been feeling the beginnings of a headache all day, it was bound to flare up at the worst moment anyways. She couldn't help but wince a little at the dull throb.

"Are you okay?" Asked Amy, putting down her cup and tipping her head to one side.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I just have a headache." She hesitated, wondering if she should ask something that she'd always wanted to ask about this place. "Do you suppose I should go to the infirmary?—"

Amy looked up immediately, her expression changing. "Oh, no, you don't need to do that!" Suddenly realizing how defensive she had been, she smiled nervously. "No need to go to the infirmary, everything medical's in the houses."

_That's what I thought_. Though, she hadn't expected _that_ much of a reaction. She blinked at Amy, not exactly sure how to respond. "Okay, if you're sure."

"Yep! I'm sure." Her chipper attitude returned as soon as she was sure she'd convinced Juliet and seemed rather proud of herself for it.

She was cut off by the sound of excited yells from outside, and they both turned to see several schoolchildren chasing a runaway ball, running just out of sight. Juliet watched them, wondering how many children lived here. She did like kids, maybe babysitting or helping out at the school would be a good way to fill her time.

"Oh, and before I forget, did anyone tell you that you guys need to do your entrance tests?" Amy began, catching Juliet's attention immediately.

At Juliet's confused and slightly worried expression, she laughed and waved her hand dismissively. "No need to worry! It's nothing at all, just a few boxes you need to check. You're a part of our little group already, no worries! But we still gotta check the box for paperwork reasons, y'know? And it's just some colors and pictures and stuff, not anythin' you can fail."

Again, Juliet fought back her trained responses and forced her hackles to lower, nodding. "This is the first I've heard of it, but I'm sure we can get it done." She assured, feeling relieved as Amy smiled in return.

"Good! Horace will tell you all about it, he's the one that handles the entrances and new recruits and all that business. Don't worry about it too much, though, it's nothing big!"

Juliet nodded and leaned back in her chair. She didn't remember the last time a conversation had been this exhausting, but she had to admit it _was_ nice to have someone to talk to. Questions still spun in her mind, but she was too tired to ask them. Amy, thankfully, was a good talker.

By the time she left Amy's house the sun was on its way down in the clear blue sky, and everyone was returning from their lunch breaks. The cafeteria had more people leaving than entering. It was then she noticed the building's proximity to the Infirmary.

Starting down the path, Juliet decided that the Infirmary may be worth a look.

Juliet was relieved to be out of the hot sun, but she couldn't help feeling a twinge of nervousness as she approached the bright, low-slung infirmary. The cool shade of the building's awning was a welcome respite, and she wiped sweat from her brow as she stepped onto the concrete porch. At first glance, it was hauntingly similar to the infirmary she knew from the Others' stay at the Barracks. It was one of the more well-kept communal buildings, though it was still dilapidated compared to the pristine building here in the 70s.

Apart from the obvious differences, such as the scrubbed-clean yellow siding, she noticed a bench that hadn't been there in the future. Other than that, it seemed almost the same.

Juliet threw a quick glance over her shoulder, keeping an eye on the dissipating crowds returning from their lunch at the cafeteria and going in their own small groups back to where they worked and lived.

None of them seemed to pay any mind to her. Everyone here was so friendly, always talking about one person or another. It seemed to give the impression of a close-knit community, but Juliet and the rest of the shipwreckers seemed to slip in unnoticed. She wasn't about to question it, though. The anonymity of being part of a large, unremarkably homogenous crowd was the perfect cover.

After making sure she wasn't being eyed by any of the passers-by, Juliet took a few steps toward the front wall of the building. The shady front wall was wide, but minimalistic. A few strides from one corner was a metal, glassless window made up of thick, diagonal lattice. Through the small diamond-shaped holes, Juliet could catch glimpses of what looked like a hallway. A few strides from the window was a white metal double-door, decorated with the same crisscross lattice. There wasn't any glass in the windows or doors, leaving open holes.

Despite the lack of a proper breeze, the damp draft that stirred under the awning whistled as it weaved in and out of the small holes. Juliet tested the door hopefully, but it was locked. She fiddled with the handles. They didn't have any kind of holes or obvious lock mechanisms on the outside, but each time she pulled she heard something rattling against the interior handles. _Was it padlocked from the inside?_

Lifting her eyes to glance at the hallway inside, she could see three more of the same kind of doors sitting on the opposite wall. She listened carefully. Voices floated through the doors and bounced off the walls of the open-air hallway. Just loud enough to be registered as individual voices, but not enough to make out words. Juliet stood quietly, trying to piece together all these strange aspects of the 'infirmary'. Door's padlocked from the inside, the infirmary isn't even necessary due to the houses themselves having medicine, there's people talking inside, and nobody's allowed in. Her curiosity spurred her brain to revert to her old way of thinking, redirecting her thoughts to early-morning stakeouts and watching the cameras, just to see if anyone went in and out. She stopped herself before the plans started forming, silently frustrated at how _easy_ it was to think that way.

Before she could even turn around to leave, the sound of a metal door clanging from far inside the infirmary echoed into the desolate hall. Juliet started, her hand freezing on the ice-cold doorknob. Was someone coming outside? She took one step back, then another, trying to figure out how much danger she was in.

"Good afternoon!" A voice greeted from behind her, and she spun around to see a short, labcoat-clad figure standing on the sidewalk leading to the Infirmary.

Juliet blinked, studying her up and down, before recognizing her. The labcoat didn't have any name or logo of any sort stitched onto it, unlike the jumpsuits. She took a moment to try and remember the scientist's name.

"Molly." She responded, striding coolly away from the Infirmary and into the sun. The much shorter Molly stared up at her expectantly through comically sized coke-bottle glasses, which she adjusted shrewdly.

"Poking around?" She mused, standing on her tiptoes to peer around her to the Infirmary door. Obviously, there was no denying it, she had been seen. Instead, she kept as cool an expression as she could manage. If she were a well-meaning new resident, what reason would she have to hide her exploration of the Infirmary?

"Someone directed me to the Infirmary," she explained vaguely, trying to study Molly's expression. The scientist took a few steps around Juliet and looked between her and the Infirmary door. After a few moments more of silence, she shoved her hands in her pockets and spun to face her once more.

"They did? I thought it was pretty well known around here that the Infirmary is not currently in service." Molly explained succinctly.

"Why?"

The scientist frowned at her; the simple question was clearly unexpected. She narrowed her eyes and perceptively looked her over. She transitioned through several emotions in one minute, before finally taking a step closer to the Shipwrecker.

"Listen, Juliet," She started, her tone a lot quieter. Juliet returned her gaze nonchalantly.

"I hope you know that just because you live here now doesn't mean you can go and do whatever you want. You're not one of them, we both know that, but that doesn't mean you're exempt from all the rules." She continued, "I don't want you setting a _bad example_. Just as long as you understand that, we can all get along just fine."

Her attempts to be intimidating, didn't have very much of an effect. If anything, Juliet was compelled to push back in the slightest manner, just to see what information she could get. "I just asked a simple question."

Molly sniffed. "We both know you're asking more than that. Go back to whatever you were doing, because you're not getting anything else out of me." With a dramatic flair of her labcoat, Molly brushed past her and strutted down the path, into the now dissipating throng of people.

Miles squinted at the small, printed label. "What's _ethically-sourced keratin?"_ Before he could read any more, James snatched it out of his hand and placed it onto the back of a bottle of Dharma-brand maple syrup.

"We're supposed 'ta be puttin' the labels _on_, not readin' em." He smoothed the nutritional label over the formerly blank back of the bottle, then slid it across the table to join the other newly labelled products.

James leaned back and surveyed the surrounding area. They were in a large garage-like area in the back of the Welcome Center. One of the walls sported an almost full-size garage door, currently open, through which one could see the small backroad vans used to bring in luggage from the sub. Beams of afternoon sunlight shone into the warehouse-like back area. There were large shelves against the walls on either side, and the back wall sported some tables, which in turn held stacks of important papers. A cool breeze funneled in through the open wall.

The concrete floor was covered in folding tables, each covered with an array of blank-backed Dharma products, and a few boxes of nutritional labels. Horace was stationed at the far end of the array of tables, hastily working on his own stack of labels to be assigned.

James picked up another label to peel off the adhesive backing. He couldn't help feeling a little bored with the menial work, but at least he was out of the sun. Just a couple of weeks ago, he'd never have seen himself working Dharma security of any sort, let alone labelling products in the 70's. He chuckled out loud at how ridiculous this all was.

"Something funny?" Miles looked up from his own bottle of Dharma ranch dressing, which he had labelled upside-down.

"Well, Enos, I don't know about you," he began, taking the mislabeled bottle out of Miles' hands and putting it back on right-side up, "but a week ago I wouldn't have even dreamed I'd be in a little yellow house with a white picket fence, workin' a steady job, havin' food on the table and a roof over my head."

"Steady job?" Miles frowned, "We literally _just_ got here. And," He snatched another blank-backed bottle of salad dressing from the stack in front of him, "I don't know about _you_, but about a week ago I didn't think I'd still be alive. Hate to say it, but I wasn't thinking about white picket fences."

James shrugged. "Well, to each their own." He continued fiddling with the adhesive backing, trying to stick it in place on the back of a bottle of maple syrup. After pushing that one aside, he lifted his gaze with an exasperated sigh to the other bottles, waiting to be labelled, stacked overwhelmingly in front of him.

"This _sucks_." Said Miles, leaning back and huffing. "Tell me why we signed up to do this again?"

"Pity," James' gaze lifted back to Horace, who was frantically trying to shove some newly-labelled products into an industrial crate.

"Yeah, I feel _really_ sorry that they didn't print all these labels when they originally packaged the product, just to save a measly ten thousand bucks!"

"Nine and a half thousand," James corrected.

"I'm not usually one for following laws, but it would have been way easier to just—" Miles broke off as one of the doors leading into the Welcome Center opened, and a familiar labcoat-clad figure stepped out onto the concrete floor.

"Afternoon, Scully," James put his hands on his hips as Molly weaved around the tables near the door, "come to help us label?"

"Definitely not," she responded as she rounded the tables to stand next to him, turning back to watch Horace. Clipboard in one hand, she reached down with her free one to pick up one of the labels and scan it. "_Taurine_, that's new." She remarked, putting it down nonchalantly.

"Anyways, I thought I'd stop by to see how you're all adjusting."

"How hospitable of you," James responded, "Why now?"

"Because _I'm_ about to leave. Tomorrow, actually."

_Lafleur_ put his hands on his hips. "Well, ain't that convenient, right before the inspectors come. Dont'cha think that the Feds might wanna take a look at your lab?"

"_Hah,_ sure. If they could find it." She adjusted her glasses complacently.

"I'm not that good of a criminal," Miles broke in, "but I wouldn't go around announcing that you're skipping town to keep the fuzz from finding out about your secret laboratory."

"It's not secret," she stated, "_But,_ I figured you all are a curious bunch, so I'm just letting you know I'm out of town, in case you wanted to ask me any questions."

Her tone would have been threatening, if it weren't for her height. James raised his brows and nodded bemusedly.

"Yeah, I think we're good on that front." He could feel Miles desperately trying to catch his eye.

Molly looked between them. "Right. I'm sure you haven't forgotten about your testing by now, eh? It's important we have everyone's data."

James resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We've got a busy schedule, though. The way 'yer pushin' this on us, it sounds to me like you're tryna get us placed as workmen."

"Hah!" Molly stood up straighter, beaming at the opportunity to be condescending. "No worries, workmen are picked based on criminal record. Unless any of you have any extensive ones, I don't think you're going to have any problems."

"Really? Shame, I'd rather mop floors. Oh well, guess we're not cut out for it." Miles moved to sit down casually on the table but stood right back up as the cheap plastic creaked in a very unsafe manner.

"Good!" She announced, spinning on her heels. "And don't forget," she called nonchalantly over her shoulder as she departed, "Just because you're security, don't feel entitled to the whole neighborhood."

James and Miles watched her go, before the latter broke the silence.

"Well, that's not ominous at all!" He quipped, "Dharma mystery indeed."

As James watched Molly disappear around the corner, he squinted at another familiar figure that headed down the path toward them.

"Evenin' blondie, glad you finally decided to join us." He stood up straighter and put his hands on his hips. Juliet stepped into the cool shade of the Welcome Center, taking in the surroundings. Her expression was, as usual, hard to read. She strode past Horace with a nod of greeting, though he didn't seem to notice her.

Miles' head snapped up at her entrance, immediately putting down the label in hand and taking a step toward her.

"Hey, where's Dan?"

Juliet paused, a bit taken aback, but her expression remained the same as always.

"Miles—"

"Who's that creepy ass scientist guy he was with? And did you _see_ the condition he's been in since we got here? I don't know what kind of doctor you are—"

James stepped between them quickly, gaze flickering between the two of them and Horace, who was thankfully too distracted to notice them.

"Wait, wait, hold on—What are you yellin' about?" He hissed, keeping his voice low.

Miles bit back a quick response, huffing. He looked between Sawyer and Juliet bitterly.

"What, you're siding with _her_?" He piped up hotly.

"_Stop_, I don't even know what we're fightin' abou—"

"James." Juliet interrupted in that quiet way of hers, one hand raised in a placating gesture. She blinked, turning her attention to Miles.

"He's fine, Miles. He doesn't have a fever anymore and he can get around fine on his own." She explained calmly. Miles, meanwhile, took a threatening step toward her, glaring.

"Yeah? So, you just drop him off with the first guy you see?"

"He's the one observing who goes on and off the sub, he wanted to talk to Daniel about taking a job on the mainland." She went on, steadily meeting Miles' gaze.

"_Job on the mainland?!" _Miles' attempts to quiet his voice were beginning to weaken. James was looking continually over his shoulder to make sure they weren't being heard. Miles caught sight of this and took a moment to swallow back his anger, before stepping closer to Juliet.

"And you just said okay and handed him off?—"

Something flickered in Juliet's eyes. "And you left without saying goodbye?" Her voice had no malice or even sarcasm, it was a simple statement.

Miles stopped abruptly, as if taking a moment to comprehend what was just said to him. He pressed his lips shut in a tight line. The fact that Juliet's gaze was more chiding—maternal, even—than scathing served only to make him angrier.

He took a pronounced step forward, closing the distance between them to only a few inches. "Listen, lady, I don't care what you and your little hobbit friends think you know about all of us, but I'm gonna tell you right now—step off." He inhaled shakily, realizing he was losing control and needed to end this before he said something he didn't mean, though it was probably too late for that.

"You don't know _anything_ about us, and if you think you can just pick at us like your beach friend here," he gestured with a hand to James, who had given up mediating and was hovering awkwardly near them, "you're _wrong_."

Juliet stared back at him with that same damn _mask_ of hers, like she's heard this all before and this isn't her first time being yelled at. In the brief moment of silence Miles uses to take a breath, he becomes suddenly very aware of the height difference between them, which only serves to make him feel more ridiculous. But, if there's one thing he's learned, it's that if you've messed up, there's nothing to lose by going _all_ the way.

Miles, wavering on his feet, shoved past her before his façade could drop completely. "I'm gonna go find Dan, and if you don't mind, stay out of our way." With that, he whirled on his heels and stomped past Horace, who continued as if nothing had happened.

A brief silence followed, with the exception of the friendly, neighborly ambience of the Barracks outside. James eyed Juliet warily. Her gaze lingered on where Miles had stomped off to, and then she swiftly moved to investigate the labelling he had left behind.

James' eyebrows raised. "Well… That certainly was somethin'." He knew getting any kind of explanation out of Juliet was a lost cause, but he couldn't help prodding. As expected, she received the statement with a calm expression.

"What are you doing?" Calm, simple. James leaned his elbows down on the table.

"Labellin' products before the Feds get here. Got a big inspection' comin, I'd say we had good timing."

She didn't look up as she picked up and studied one of the adhesive labels, scanning the ingredients. "Why didn't they just put the labels on when—"

"Yeah, yeah, that's what we said. But hey," He stood up and raised his hands in a kind of half-hearted shrug, "who are we to question the ways of the powerful Dharma?"

Juliet remained as calm and unreadable as ever, gingerly peeling off the backing and smoothing it onto a bottle of generically labelled maple syrup.

"James, I need you to do something for me." She issues it as more of a command than a question. He prided himself in catching the brief knit of her brows as she spoke, a rare occurrence.

"Anything for you, 'yer majesty." He expected to at least get a smirk out of that. Swing and a ex

Juliet let the bottle linger in her hands, running them over the newly applied label more than should be necessary. "I need you to look in the files for anyone named Mary."

The name struck James as familiar, but he'd be damned if he couldn't put his finger on where he last heard it. "Aight. Any particular reason?"

He expected a spoken denial at least, but she put down the maple syrup and picked up another label, analyzing it. He narrowed his eyes, continuing to study her. _I'm guessin' that's a no._ Or, what she'd have liked to pass off as a 'no'. Perhaps she wanted him to think that she was denying any reason, so that he'd think there was a reason and put a lot of thought into it when, really, there wasn't anything there at all. Maybe _that's_ what she wanted him to think, and there really _was_ a reason and she was trying to—

"James."

He shook his head and looked around, realizing he had just been spoken to. It took him another second to truly regain his bearings.

"James. You're staring at me more than you usually do." She wasn't even looking up, how did she know that? Still, he felt a humiliated flush threaten to tint his cheeks. He sucked up the feelings as quickly as he had felt them. If she wanted to put on a mask, he would too.

"Can't help but notice you got somethin' on your mind." He played it off as smoothly as he could, even through the tension that still hung in the air.

"I do."

He eyed her expectantly, but it was as if she'd been a bottle-labeler since she got here, working away. Realizing that this was a stupid idea, and out-Othering the Other would only lead to frustration, he turned back to his own stack.

"What kind of an inspection would Dharma have?" Juliet wondered aloud, and James couldn't help but notice her wince disapprovingly at whatever she was reading on the labels.

"Horace says they're bein' babysat. I suppose that ain't the worst idea, considering the time period we're in." Juliet nodded understandingly.

"I don't understand why they wouldn't be on-island, in case something happens."

James shrugged. "Guess they got a lot of trust." Though, he personally couldn't imagine any government official handing over control of a facility to—well, Horace.

He picked up another Dharma-brand ranch dressing, glanced at it tiredly, and sighed as he looked at the pile he still had sitting in front of him.

He let his eyes wander to where Jin had been working quietly this entire time at the table behind him, scoffing loudly at the sheer amount of products he'd managed to label in the time the rest of them had been arguing and gossiping. Today was gonna be a long day.

Hot, dense humidity laid over the Barracks like a blanket of thick fog, seeming to weigh down everyone and everything inside. The sun set later on the island than everyone was used to on the mainland, but all the residents maintained their former schedules. Normally, it would have been concerning to see a neighborhood sidewalk abandoned during a nice evening—that is, until one remembered it was nine at night.

Miles, for one, was glad that the Barracks were empty for the rest of the day. If he had to be trapped in this mess of yellow boxes called houses, he wanted to interact with other people as little as possible. Anger flushed over him in waves, coming and going. He wasn't entirely sure _how _to feel, other than pissed.

Juliet, for one, needed to back off. He was certain about that. Of all people, one of Ben's cronies would be the one getting into his business. To make matters worse, he didn't know jack about her. Sure, he hadn't really read _anyone's _file, with the exception of the one regarding Linus' finances, but It'd be nice if he had a little warning at least. Even worse, why would James-goddamn-Ford of all people want to take her side? Well, she was a hot blonde, so it wasn't all that unreasonable.

Still, he needed some reason to be angry at her. Jim was right to be suspicious of her, Other or not. A sudden thought stabbed at Miles like a knife. If she was so dangerous, why would he leave Dan with her? His hands balled into fists defensively. _I didn't have any other choice_. He took a sharp turn on the path, ducking into a narrow strip of concrete that snaked through a narrow alley.

Miles swatted some unkempt, spindly vines away from his face as they climbed up the slatted siding of the Dharma houses. Shouldering through the narrow alley wasn't the best way to get around, sure, but it beat running into people he didn't know. He made sure to step gingerly around the boxy AC units that protruded from some of the unbarred windows, keeping an ear out for anyone who might want to follow him and start up a conversation. God, if he thought people on the freighter were annoying—

A noise broke him out of his thoughts, and he hovered at the mouth of the alley where the pathway rejoined with the sidewalk. A hot, sticky evening breeze carried some muffed sounds to his ears. A child laughing. Miles sighed, relieved it wasn't anyone coming his way. Though, where there was child, there was parent.

Ducking out of the alley and merging onto the larger path, he sighted the source of the noise: Charlotte. He stopped abruptly in his tracks.

Charlotte, dressed in a pink dress and covered in mud, was laughing as she pulled up grass from the lawn and put it into a pile, wild red hair falling into her face and spilling over her shoulders. She looked so happy, getting her hands (and dress) dirty in the island sun. Miles felt like the breath had been knocked out of him, and it took a moment for him to regain his composure. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Charlotte was… gone. It was like his brain just wouldn't accept it.

Miles' gaze slid up from the lawn to the porch, where two people, presumably Charlotte's parents, were talking. He recognized the woman by her familiar red hair, Charlotte's mother, who he didn't know the name of. She was a small woman with a quiet demeanor, but her hair and face were just like Char's. Miles slunk along the far edge of the pathway, watching Charlotte's mother sway on her feet under the shade of the porch, tugging a bathrobe self-consciously around her thin frame.

Raising his head, Miles was able to get a better view of the man she was talking to. He squinted, racking his brain for any memory of Charlotte mentioning her father. She'd mentioned her mother and sisters in passing—not that Miles paid very much attention—but he could have sworn she said something about the absence of a father. Maybe they'd bonded over that? He didn't remember.

"I'm going back down there because it's my job, not because I want to." The man's gruff voice echoed off the porch. Miles' gaze darted between the oblivious Charlotte and the man—her father—on the porch. Miles squinted, catching the name _David_ on this pocket, right above the embroidered 'Workman'. He curled his lip.

_David_ carded his hands through his sweaty hair, sucking in a breath. His baggy jumpsuit was covered with a fine layer of dirt, small particles of grit cascading off the fabric as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Miles wasn't the eavesdropping type—he hated when people were in _his_ business—but he couldn't bear walking away from little Charlotte, who was apparently digging for worms. He tried to steel himself into taking another step, getting out of there before he was caught staring, but he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

A small, timid figure was hovering on the other side of the path, eyes locked firmly on Charlotte. He took a step forward. _Oh no._

Dan, wavering unsteadily on his feet, stumbled out into the sunlight, eyes completely glossed. He's staring so intently at Charlotte, but it's obvious he's somewhere else completely. Miles' breath catches in his throat, and he's suddenly unable to move.

Charlotte continued clawing a muddy hole into the pristine, manicured lawn, lost in innocent fun. Miles looked up, hearing the crinkle of plastic, as Daniel extended a tempting Apollo bar in the girl's direction. She looked up, blinking.

"Hi," Dan croaked, his voice seeming so much smaller than usual. "Can…C-Can you come talk to me for a second?" Miles gaze flickered between the two figures. Dan's eyes were firmly locked on her nose, as if expecting to see little threads of crimson any second.

What was he supposed to do? Miles sucked in a breath and held it, feelings mixing like hot and cold water in his gut. He was completely out of sight, sure, but Dan—the _idiot_, did he not realize how this would make him look?—was in the line of fire. Miles shifted uncomfortably. Experience the embarrassment secondhand or firsthand? His eyes narrowed.

Charlotte blinked innocently, still half-covered in mud. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the familiar wrapper. She moved as if to get up, then plopped back down in the dirt. "My mum says I'm not supposed to have chocolate before dinner." She said firmly, though her gaze was still locked intently on the candy bar.

Charlotte's mother looked up, giving Dan a concerned but non-confrontational once-over. David followed her gaze, curling his lip and narrowing his eyes threateningly. He pushed away from the red-haired woman and stomped down the porch.

"What th' hell do you think you're doing?" Daniel clambered timidly back off the path, as Charlotte's father came thundering down the pathway. He tossed aside Dharma's flimsy plastic excuse for a hard hat, which splintered immediately on impact with the concrete. The unsuspecting Charlotte watched as her dad passed.

Something about seeing the formidable and very angry David towering over the mousy Dan made something click in Miles' head. Yeah, no, he wasn't going to let Daniel—even if he _was_ stupid and brainless and a whole bunch of other things—get cornered by some red-shirt. He pushed off firmly with his heels and went to intercept.

"D'you really think you could just make off with her without me knowing, huh? I don't care what kinda job I have, that doesn't give you _any_ excuse—"

Miles stepped between the two of them, bristling. He could feel Dan staring at him—_the damn idiot, he's probably gonna get mad at me for ruining whatever scheme he thought he could pull off—_and moved to block David's path.

"Watch it!" He snapped, his nerve alone sending Charlotte's concerned dad back a step. "Get away from him, man. He didn't do anything to you."

David's gaze landed on the embroidered 'Security' on Miles' jumpsuit and screwed up his face in irritation, probably biting back something scathing.

"You here to come get this nut? 'Cause he doesn't need to be _anywhere _near—"

"I've got it handled." Miles growled through gritted teeth, hackles rising. "Back off." He kept his voice low, so Charlotte wouldn't hear. Charlotte, however, seemed uninterested in the conflict and once again had her head buried in the muddy hole she had dug in their lawn.

Miles swept a hand behind him to wave Dan back, away from this asshole, and stepped back to push him toward the small alley. The two men stood for a moment, glaring at each other, until David shook his head and stepped back as well.

"Jeanette," He called over his shoulder to Charlotte's mother, who was concernedly watching the whole thing play out from the porch, "take her inside."

Miles stood his ground, watching triumphantly as the offender stomped off, the now very dirty Charlotte tugging at the pants of his jumpsuit and trying to show him a worm she had found.

Dan broke the silence.

"M-Miles?..." He prodded timidly from behind. All Miles' anger flushed back to the surface, and he spun around to begin shoving Daniel unceremoniously into the narrow alley.

Once they were fully concealed behind the untamed vines and boxy AC units, Miles took a deep, measured breath—_oh he was gonna kill Dan for this—_

"Are you insane? Are you stupid?" Miles snapped, causing Daniel to back up as far as he could against the slatted siding of a Dharma house. He stared at him with those wide, puppy-dog eyes that Miles just couldn't _stand_—

"Do you even know what you just did?" Miles snatched the Apollo bar roughly from his hands and tossed it aside. "You could have ruined everything, Dan, you—" He faltered, feeling the rage begin to burn out already.

Daniel blinked at him, flinching slightly at the scathing words. "I—I had to warn—" He started, trying meekly to defend himself.

"You—You—You could have gotten yourself _hurt_—" Miles sputtered, gesturing wildly. He had to spin on his heels and turn away from Daniel to try and compose himself, running clawed fingers fretfully through his hair. All kinds of possible scenarios flashed through his mind, terrible things happening to Daniel. First Char, now him, and he'd have to deal with hearing the last thoughts of the only two people he'd even come close to calling friends—

He fell silent, gritting his teeth to stop himself from saying something _else_ he didn't mean, eyes screwed shut in an attempt to just block it all out.

He could hear Dan exhale shakily behind him. "I'm…"

"Y-You're what, sorry? Sorry that you think you can change the future? Sorry that you think you're smarter than everyone else? Sorry you don't look where you're going? Sorry you're _leaving me_ for a theory you yourself said was bull?!" His voice hit a crescendo, catching forcefully on the lump in his throat. He took a sharp breath in, blinking back the tears in his eyes because he'd be damned if he let _anyone_ see Miles Straume cry.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the damp siding of the house, using it to support himself. He didn't trust himself to look at Dan right now, but he could feel those wide eyes staring a hole through his back.

"L-Listen, Miles." He didn't even have to look to know Dan was doing that little determined raise of his chin he did when he was set on something, he had every mannerism memorized.

"I… I don't know anything for sure. I have a doctorate but I'm—I'm _not_ a scholar. Nothing is… Nothing I say is for sure, and…" He took a second to breathe,

"…If there's even the smallest, _slightest_ chance that I'm wrong—" Miles could hear his voice cracking, it felt like someone had put a dagger through his chest—

"I… I have to do this. I… I'm sorry… I don't want to leave you. B-but I can't let her die again either. And if there's anything I can do to help, it's not here… You said it yourself I'm—I'm not cut out to be here, to lie. I could have ruined everything… But I can help, I know I can, I can _fix this_, this is what I'm here to do—"

Miles was listening with only half an ear, trying to focus on forcing each breath in and out lest it catch in his throat. Dan's voice trailed off, seemingly he had realized that Miles wasn't someone who could be reasoned with.

"I'm sorry." The scientist offered brokenly; the words were so genuine they hurt to hear. Miles heard the gentle, shaky footsteps leading out of the alleyway and away from Charlotte's house, somewhere else. He was gone.

Miles turned painfully to face the empty space behind him, the setting sun too bright now. _Great. Just great, Miles, you've gone and messed everything up again._ He lowered his head, feeling hot shame burn over him in waves. _You made Dan cry, great job. No wonder he wants to get away from you so bad._

He could see the fading sunlight catch on the cheaply made Apollo bar wrapper as it lay in the grass, and he moved to pick it up, scrutinizing the logo and designs as thoughts swirled tumultuously in his mind. In the distance, he could hear hushed voices.

"…Nothing like _that_ happens here David, you know that."

"Oh, it doesn't? It _doesn't?_—Don't tell me that, Jeanette—I don't care what kind of bloody safe haven you think this place is—"

"Pierre wouldn't lie to us; _Horace_ wouldn't lie to us…" The voices faded quickly, their absence accompanied by the sound of a screen door opening and shutting. Miles tightened his grip on the candy bar, screwing up his face.

He turned and threw it against the pavement, not even staying long enough to watch the flimsy wrapper wither on the hot cement. He was already stomping out of the alley, headed for god-knows-where.

The buzzing of the florescent lights overhead mixed with the whirring of the beat-up box fan mixed together into an overwhelming drone, covering up the clinking and scraping and the moaning of pipes in the surrounding walls. No matter the hour, it always looked like it was three in the morning in the monitor room, deep black shadows broken by beams of fuzzy white light from the monitors.

James shifted uncomfortably in his chair, letting the folds of his jumpsuit's collar engulf him. He couldn't decide if he was too hot or too cold, but he knew for sure that he was uncomfortable. He lifted his eyes from one of the many files he'd pored over that evening, watching shadows move to and fro in the doorway to the side room. He could hear Horace fretting inaudibly over something or other, occasionally dropping things, and Phil making some annoying remarks. Horace was nothing if not… dedicated? No, that wasn't really a good word. Enthusiastic, maybe?

After realizing nothing interesting was happening in the side room, James turned his attention back to the file in his hand. He skimmed over the bare-bones information that was in everyone's file, not really looking at anything but the name. According to Dharma's Glorious Leader, the _real_ files were kept under lock and key in those cabinets in the room upstairs. The one that smelled like smoke and was packed to the brim with sketchy-looking people in suits and lab-coats. Was Security, of all departments, allowed to access the files of their own residents? Of _course_ not. He'd caught glimpses of manila folders so full they looked like a slice of cake, but they weren't _allowed_ to see those. So, he had to settle for the one or two page 'files,' which contained information so useless he would have rather surveyed every resident in person.

_Name, birthday, age, photo, house number…_

Finding nothing of note in the current folder, he let it snap shut and tossed it into the 'uninteresting' pile, reaching for another one from the box. He didn't know why he was doing this, staying late in a hot, sticky concrete box underground to look for a name on the word of Nancy Drew herself. Did she give a reason? No. Did he do it anyways? Of course.

He screwed up his face and pretended to concentrate as Phil carried out another stuffed-full box of papers and plopped it in front of the door, spinning curtly on his heels and scurrying back into the side room. Juliet was a mystery that he could never hope to unravel. And, being the sucker that he was, he's putting himself within 10 feet of _Phil_ just to scrounge for information.

Nothing of interest in this folder, either. He was running out of files to skim, and running out of patience for—

"I don't know why I've gotta do this, man. _I've_ got one good arm, and _he's_ got two!" The sound of something dropping and papers going everywhere sounded above the din. A lone paper drifted gracefully into the doorframe of the side room and landed soundlessly.

"He's helping." Horace replied dismissively, accompanied by the sound of him picking up the papers he presumably dropped.

James tossed aside the folder in hand and reached for one of the last ones in the box, listening with half an ear to the oh-so-enchanting banter from next door.

His fingers brushed the folder before feeling something unfamiliar. He brought them close to his face and closer to the light of the monitors to study them. Sure enough, there was a fine layer of grit coating the pads of his fingers. Perplexed, he retrieved the file, bringing it into the light. He didn't exactly know what he expected, but it was dirty. The cut-rate manila had been discolored into a grimy tan by a thin layer of dirt coating it. James grimaced and dusted it off as best he could, hearing the clinking of little particles of gravel and dirt hitting the concrete floor.

After giving the folder a good shake, he deemed it clean enough and opened it. Immediately, something was off. The first thing his eyes were drawn to was the picture, which appeared to be of a young woman. Instead of the spotless lei-clad portrait photo in every folder, this one was obscured by a black mark. On closer inspection, it was a black bar over the woman's eyes, completely hiding them. It looked like someone had taken a sharpie and drew a black censor bar over them.

James frowned. _Everything_ about Dharma was either eccentric or confusing, or some mix of both. But he couldn't help but wonder what would cause _this._ First of all, censoring eyes in particular, nothing else? That—along with the dirt covering the folder—easily marked this as the most interesting, if not unsettling, file he'd seen today.

His gaze slid from the picture to the name.

_Mary._

Her last name, age, and a few other things were blocked out in the same manner as her eyes. Someone had scribbled incomprehensible cursive onto the corner of the page.

James barely had any time to fully process the sudden clatter of things falling onto the floor before Horace piped up with a quick "Sorry!" He snapped the folder shut, tossed it aside, and brushed as much dirt off his hands and jumpsuit as he could.

"Need some help, Chief?" He drawled, fully intending on staying right where he was. Horace moved to gather up the spilled items and pack them into their cramped box.

"Nope! We're just dandy over here. Keep on doing whatever you're doing!" He replied, fully genuine, before squirreling away the box on a palette sitting by the door and ducking back into the side room.

James leaned back in his chair. He'd thought conning his way into Dharma and keeping up some ridiculously tangled and complicated lie would be hard. Fortunately, they ended up being chaperoned by the one and only Horace Goodspeed. James was fully convinced that this would be an easy, easy ride. In terms of keeping their story straight, at least. God knows what they'd have to deal with in this place.

His thoughts drifted back, as they always did, to Juliet. What'd she been doing when they were gone, anyways? Handing off Dan to some guy for something about the sub… He'd already forgotten most of the details. Still, he felt something tugging at the back of his mind, nagging him. Something wasn't really right here. He just had… a feeling, of sorts. After clearing most of the fine dirt from the folds of his uniform, he spun in the chair and reached under the monitor desk to feel for the bucket of tapes.

He shifted through them and pulled out the one from the morning hours, turning it over once or twice in his hands to confirm it. Popping out the current tape, he looked up and flicked the monitors to the one showing the bungalow they'd been granted. He tuned out Phil's squeaky voice from next door and the droning of the ambient noises, leaning in to focus on the grainy footage.

After a moment of clicking through the cameras, he sighted him and the rest of the security party heading out for the morning. James hit play on the tape, forwarded it a little bit. A few minutes after they had left, a tall, labcoat-clad man strode to their doorway. After a few moments of looming over Daniel, he led him down the path. Shortly after that, Juliet came out to dry laundry. James leaned in even closer, eyes fixed on her figure in the corner of the screen.

People walked by. Juliet pinned up clothes on the clothesline. James was ready to fast-forward, but his heart skipped a beat as he keenly spotted Juliet turning around, as if noticing something. This had gotta be it.

_Wait, what?_

James clicked back a few seconds to re-watch that part. Sure enough, it happened again. It had to be the tape glitching, right? No, on the third rewatch he could see it plain as day. One moment, she was there, and a split second later—she disappeared. Not walking, not turning, no puff of smoke, just _snap_—and she was gone. Like she'd completely blipped out of reality. Few minutes later, she was back like nothing happened. He didn't know what he had expected. At the most eccentric, maybe he'd see Juliet talking to the air, sure—but he sure as hell didn't expect this.

"H-Hey Jim, on second thought, we could use a hand with these boxes!" Of course, Horace would be the one to break up a moment like this. James leaned back in his chair, letting the chills wash over him.

He popped the tape out and put it at the very bottom of the stack.

Miles shifted uncomfortably, turning over and kicking off the standard-issue scratchy canvas blanket he had been trying to sleep with. Never before had crickets and night birds sounded so deafening. He sat up on the porch swing he had slept in the night before, grimacing as he felt the stick of sweat on the side of his body he'd been laying on. Even the wood of the sunroom floor felt hot and damp. And he thought trying to sleep through police sirens was bad.

He had found his way home—back to the house, he corrected himself—after a fair amount of wandering and dodging out of the way of any potential encounters. No matter where he went, he was still surrounded by laughing families and cookie-cutter houses. By the time he'd found his way back he could hear Juliet bustling around in Dan's room. He stormed past Jin and Sawyer and decided to turn in early. Only good thing about this place was how easy you could get a beer. He drank a little—okay, maybe a lot. But it didn't dull any of the pain, only made him feel like death. What an _amazing_ day—he made Dan cry, got pissed at Juliet, had a bad day of 'work,' had beer that tasted like straight battery acid, and to top it all off he was hot as hell.

Miles groaned audibly and slumped back against the back of the porch swing, causing the chains holding it up to creak lethargically. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the waves of nausea from whatever he just drank, trying to will himself to feel cooler. Crickets chirped outside. Some jungle animal made a god-awful noise far off in the distance. A few nocturnal songbirds twittered to one another sleepily. It would have been peaceful, if it weren't for the surroundings. None of it would have been so bad if he wasn't surrounded by a bunch of rainbow-colored boxes and their _way _too friendly inhabitants. Miles couldn't help but think how nice it would be to be somewhere out in the jungle, sleeping on the ground or something like that. No houses and _no_ people—just the nature sounds. Yeah, he could live with that. Just sleeping outside.

Unfortunately, the musty, broiling sunroom was the closest he was gonna get to outside. _If I have to put that blanket over me again, I'll die._ He thought, wishing desperately he had snagged the little box fan from the monitor room. His attention turned to the wide, industrial air vent sitting high up on the wall to his right, glowering at it. Real nice that they had the one house without a damn window unit. It was a good thing Juliet did away with the thermostat, or he'd be fiddling with it all night. Miles tried to remember what she had said about the air… Something about the tunnels, whatever _they_ were. He was about to go down there and turn on the air _himself_ if—

_Wait, was that a noise?_

Miles sat up faster than he ever thought he could, staring bewildered at the vent. Had he jinxed it? He slid closer to it on the porch swing, listening intently. It sounded… muffled. Like… someone talking? Miles strained to make out words.

Now that he was focusing, he could definitely make out the noises to be voices. Most importantly, Juliet's. _She must be sitting near a vent somewhere inside._ He listened closer, trying to catch any recognizable words.

"Did you… feel like you were somewhere else? When you saw her?" She was asking, just the slightest lace of urgency in her voice.

"I don't think I understand." Jin, of course. That was the only other room with an industrial vent in it.

"It happened to me. It felt like I was… in the same place, but somewhere else." She began to say something else, but Miles couldn't make it out, nor Jin's response.

He grimaced in frustration, trying to move close enough to hear. _If I can't get air out of this thing, I can still get some private conversations._

"Were there other people around?" Juliet asked calmly.

"No, not before or after." Jin's responses were slow and measured, as if trying to pick the right words.

There were some muffled sounds and suddenly, the voices were too hard to make out. Wherever they were sitting before, they must have moved farther away. Miles fell back against the wood of the porch swing, kicking his feet up onto it in defeat. There were some muffled sounds and suddenly, the voices were too hard to make out. Wherever they were sitting before, they must have moved farther away. Miles fell back against the wood of the porch swing, kicking his feet up onto it in defeat.

He wondered if Dan had gone straight back to the house after their argument. Would Juliet had been there when he got back? Miles huffed and turned on his side. However, his anger toward Juliet fizzled out as quickly as it sparked. Of course, Dan would go to her… He didn't know any better… Actually, maybe he knew the best out of all of them. Miles felt an uncomfortable pang of—jealousy? No—_guilt_. He turned over onto his stomach, feeling the porch swing sway under his uncomfortable shifting. He stared idly out through the screen and into the green yard, watching the lampposts flick off. Was it really that close to morning? He hadn't glanced at the clock when he came in.

Huffing, Miles kicked his legs over the edge of the porch swing, deciding maybe he should get a head start on this testing bull.

Day or night, it was boiling hot on the island. By the time Miles had wound his way through the sidewalk (and gotten lost a few times), the edges of the horizon were beginning to lighten into a pale lavender. Already, some lights were on here and there, and some houses even had their doors open. Scoffing, Miles followed the smaller, out-of-the-way paths, not in the mood to get caught up in a conversation about the weather.

The security station came into view, and Miles walked past it toward the grassy quad containing the gazebo, which was abandoned save for a few cats stretched on the damp wooden seats. _Welcome center, right? I hope they don't give me another few bottles to label._ He sniffed in frustration at the sight of someone already at the door. On closer inspection, it was a Workman, cleaning the windows. For a moment he thought it was Charlotte's dad, but it was just—what was his name, Ron? Rich?—Roger, yeah, that was it. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Miles slowed his steps as he approached, eyeing Roger cautiously as he tried to see how close he could get to the doors without him noticing. Something tightened in his chest as he neared. Roger was the one who did away with one of those rowdy teenagers, he remembered. Kid's last thoughts still echoed in his head. Roger didn't take notice of him at first, easily separating the crisscross metal lattice from the windows they protected, tossing the hunk of metal aside as if it were nothing. Miles decided to get this over with, hackles rising. _I'm glad Dan ran into that other guy instead of Roger_, he thought with a chill.

"Is it open?" He asked, not caring if he sounded rude. If anything, maybe it would make him less of a target. _Who am I kidding, this is the damn Brady Bunch neighborhood. He's probably the worst guy here._

Roger turned his head slowly in his direction, glowering at him from behind a curtain of messy, shaggy blonde hair, not unlike the mop in the bucket beside him. Roger huffed and looked him up and down.

"Does it matter? Ain't nothin' lock here. Jus' go inside." Miles had a hard time meeting his eyes but met his glare with one of equal malice out of spite as he pushed past and opened the door, wincing at the brief stink of alcohol in the air.

The door swung open, letting the pale dawn light into the shadowy, empty Welcome Center. If nothing else, he had the place to himself. The front room of the welcome center was lined with seats and boxy monitors perched on the walls. Along the far end of the left wall, several cubicles were embedded into the now half-wall. Either one had a surface and a stool on the visible side, the other side separated by what looked like a bank teller window with a metal cover on the other side, obscuring the opposite end of the cubicle. Miles, hands in his pockets as he walked over the cold concrete floor, decided the stools looked more comfortable than the rows of chairs.

He pulled out a stool and sat down, resting his elbows on the provided surface and staring idly at the little speaker protruding from the covered window. He let his gaze wander to the rafters of the high, vaulted ceiling, spying what appeared to be a bird's nest nested within the fork of two wooden beams.

A noise on the other side of the half-wall startled Miles out of his thoughts as he turned to look at the little speaker. He heard a shifting of papers and footsteps on the other side. After a moment, they seemed to come his direction. He heard the scraping of a stool on the other side of his stall and half expected to see the metal cover open. However, it remained closed.

"Here for the testing?" A female voice came through the tinny speaker and echoed over the half-wall. Miles heard her shifting on the stool on the other side.

"Yeah," he replied, too tired to somersault around potential interactions now. It was either her or Roger, he surmised.

"You're a bit early," she responded, though she didn't seem too mad about it. "I am too," she added self-consciously.

"You work here?" Miles asked, trying not to let disinterest seep into his voice.

"You could say that. I'm just filling in the jobs they don't exactly hire for here, this kind of thing is a volunteer position. Do you?"

"Security," Miles clarified unenthusiastically, "not here on business, unfortunately." He rested his chin in his hand, which was in turn propped up by his elbow on the surface of the cubicle.

"Where are you from?" Prodded the voice from the other side.

Miles was half-tempted to give some sarcastic answer, but it was at that moment he felt a twinge of familiarity. He'd be damned if he hadn't heard that voice before, but for some reason he couldn't place it. And, it would be more entertaining to talk to some lady on the other side of a window instead of Mr. Workman, who was still window-washing outside.

"Encino," he answered, truthfully for once. He didn't have the energy for lying through a conversation.

"California?" The mystery woman echoed, "My family's from California. Not exactly Encino, but in the area."

Miles' brows raised. "Really? How'd you end up here?"

He could hear her fidgeting on the other side, continually clicking a pen. "I filed papers for Dharma's Los Angeles sub dock, never really intended on coming here," she paused, as if taking a moment to reminisce. "I met a head scientist working there. I remember I was trying to get some papers from him when he came off the sub. He must have been a little woozy still, because he fell off the side of the dock and into the waters, where I had to pull him out."

Miles snickered, the mental image of one of those obnoxiously superior labcoats tumbling into the water off the dock extremely humorous to him. "_Really?_ You talk about him like you still know him. What, you marry him after you pulled him outta the ocean?" He teased, picking up on her nostalgic tone.

He heard her laugh on the other side, turning away from the speaker as she did so, though the echoes still bounced up from over the half-wall. Miles tried to keep himself from smirking. It was such a distinct laugh, but he couldn't place where he knew it from.

"Well, not _right_ after he got out of the water," she chuckled, "We were the first couple to be married on-island, right after the Truce." She clarified modestly.

"Quite the scenic location, eh? Never suspected a scientist to go after anyone but their work." He remarked, the image of Dr. Cunningham popping into his head. He'd be damned if _she_ was married to anyone.

"He tells people he's married to his job," She explained, "and I'd say that's pretty accurate. I'm lucky to have snagged him before he got as self-important as he is now." Her tone was teasing, but in an affectionate way.

"_Gag_, the one thing I didn't expect to be here was romance." Maybe it was the "beer" he drank a while ago, but he didn't expect himself to talk so freely without biting back smart remarks.

That earned another snicker from the other side. "You'd be surprised. Everywhere that isn't the Orchid or the Flame seems pretty happy-go-lucky. I'm glad for it, though." She paused, continuing to click the pen on the other side. "I'd never imagine myself living in such a nice white-picket-fence neighborhood, never in a million years," the woman admitted sheepishly.

Miles nodded in agreement, "Same here, me and my ma just scraped by. As far as I can remember we were in a bad place and an even worse neighborhood for my whole childhood."

"Me too," she admitted somberly, "Growing up I was always different from everyone, in ways I couldn't change. Other kids would tease me, not knowing I had to go back and take care of my baby siblings so my ma could work her three jobs."

Miles hesitated before responding, realizing how familiar this all sounded to him. What a coincidence he'd sit down with someone so similar to him? What's his face—John Locke—would probably have a field day explaining how this was destiny to him. He wondered if he really should be saying as much as he was, but it came so naturally. He couldn't remember the last time he was so comfortable and truthful talking to someone.

"I was an only kid," he said, "but my ma was always working and scraping to get by. She'd babysit 'cause she needed the money, so that meant I had to help. I didn't mind, though, I like kids and they seem to like me. Had some family in the area that needed it too, so she'd do that for free."

"I love children," the woman on the other side confessed, "but I don't know if I'd ever be able to bare more than one myself, doctors say I'm weak. Ever since I came here, though, I've felt so much stronger. My husband says he wants a son."

"To carry on the scientist legacy, I assume?" Miles cracked.

She laughed. "He's not really a kid person, but it's always different with your own. He's got a young adult nephew here, not really the best with people in general, I guess. I suppose you're not with anyone?"

Miles snorted and shook his head. "Don't believe in love. Only things I believe in are money and duct tape." He didn't expect her to find him so funny, but apparently, he was.

"It sounds hypocritical from me, but money isn't _everything_. It can't buy you happiness."

He sighed. "You sound just like my ma, she'd always tell me that."

"I think it's a good rule to live by. I believe in love, of all kinds. Friends and family especially."

Miles rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Yep, that sounded exactly like something she'd say. His smile fell as he remembered Dan, and he glanced at the nearest clock. _5:38, sub leaves around half-past six._ "Friends are more trouble than it's worth, it seems."

"I don't see it that way," she responded calmly. "It's easier to lose money than friends. Especially when you're caught up in work and the like. It's not really something you can explain to someone, just… feel." She laughed. "I sound so much like a hippie right now, don't I?"

Miles snickered. "Yeah, you do. I think you've been here too long." Again, his smile faded. "I mean, it's pretty easy for me to lose friends. I just…" He hesitated once more, still feeling reservations over spilling to some lady he just met. But at the same time, she seemed more agreeable than most people here. He hadn't talked to anyone like this in a long time.

"I just do the wrong things a lot. I mess things up, I mess 'em up bad. It's easier to let them live their lives without knowing me, y'know? So, I don't have to worry about that. Better for both ends." As the words left his mouth, he believed them less and less.

The woman on the other end took a moment to think about this, and Miles couldn't help but feel a little guilty that she was seriously considering giving him advice.

"I understand, but it's not irreversible. You always have a second chance, especially with friends. That sounds like a lonely way to live, avoiding problems you haven't caused yet. It doesn't sound worth it to me." She advised calmly.

Miles never took lectures like that from anyone but his ma, but for some reason her words made a lot of sense to him. _Yeah, a lonely way to live for a lonely guy._ He sighed. "But I've already caused at least one problem, and it was my fault 'cause I was being a dick for no reason."

"At least you're admitting it," she said good-naturedly, "that's a step in the right direction. But you still have your second chance, it can't hurt to try. The worst that could happen is you're in the same place as you started, so why not make an attempt?" Damn, that made a lot of sense actually. Miles' heart caught in his throat. She was—dare he say it?—right. And he never admitted he was wrong.

He sat up straighter on the stool. _The sub!_ "For the first time in a while I don't know how to disagree with that." He laughed, touching his face subconsciously. "I really should get off my ass and try, huh?"

"Of course!" She responded, and Miles stood up and scooted the stool out of his way.

"Wait," she said from the other side, "what's your name?"

"Miles," he responded with no hesitation. "You?"

"Miles, like Miles Davis?" She laughed, "I'm Lara."

_Oh._ Lara was, yeah that was his ma's name. Yep, same name. Same voice. He froze in place. Did he—it's gotta be some kinda coincidence, right? That's—that would be some serious Back to the Future stuff. Yeah, that was her name and voice. He'd just met his mom. In 1974.

"S-See ya around." Miles didn't realize nor care how tiny his voice sounded. Two big revelations and it hadn't even been an hour yet. He decided he'd better get to the sub before the full reality of the situation sank in, he had something to do.

Hot, citrus-scented morning air whizzed through into the open windows of the van as it sped recklessly over the rocky dirt 'road' leading to the sub dock. Miles caught glimpses of rolling green hills and the lush, colorful treeline of the jungle as he drove by, thankful this road was at least half in the shade. The colors of the sunrise had already sprung from the horizon line, the sherbet-orange glow was already giving way to blue. Miles led the clunky, half-useless van down the road and under a natural archway of branches above. The van roared down the slope, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake.

The second Miles hit even ground, he could see the dock and the surrounding lake come into view. A few vans and jeeps were already parked where the dirt road turned into a half-overgrown path toward the dock, which was stacked with boxes and luggage. Miles hit the brake as quick as he could and stepped out, not bothering to see if the door swung shut behind him. The hot air hit him like a breeze from inside a hot oven, made worse by him being out of breath, but there wasn't any time to complain now. He made his way around the other vans and raced up toward the dock area, nearly colliding with a few people already there.

That's when he saw the figure in the baggy navy jumpsuit, holding some crumpled papers.

"Dan!" He exclaimed, not really caring if anyone else heard. He skidded to a halt as Daniel turned, bewildered, to look at him. Miles put his hands on his knees for support, panting, and desperately tried to catch his breath. Daniel looked him up and down with wide brown eyes, confused.

"Miles?" He asked in a small voice. As Miles straightened himself back up, he saw Dan's eyes change from confused to slightly defensive. "Are… You're not here to tell me not to go, are you?"

"No," Miles panted, sheepishly avoiding his gaze, "No, I'm—I'm here to…" he struggled to even say the word, "…_apologize_."

"…You are?"

"Y-Yeah." He took a deep breath in, wondering where all his bravery went. For a moment he struggled for the right words. "I'm… Look, Dan, I'm sorry I raised hell about you leaving. I…" _Come on dumbass, just say the words!_ "I was just worried about you, I got scared." His face burned as he talked, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking away.

Daniel blinked, taking in the words. He took a breath, looking as if he genuinely didn't expect an apology. Once again, his expression changed, and he blinked sympathetically. "It's… It's alright. I-I'm sorry I almost ruined everything—"

"You didn't almost ruin everything, that was just me being pissy. I just didn't want you to get hurt." He finished, breathing out all his tension and anxiety. It felt like a weight had been lifted, and he could finally meet Dan's eyes. He gave that small, half-smile that Miles would have killed for.

"I… Thank you…" Their eyes met, both of them blinking awkwardly at one another. Miles was the first one to break eye contact.

"First call for sub boarding!" A voice rang out from somewhere over the edge of the dock, and both men turned to see a worker hanging out of the hatch entrance to the sub, waving his hand. A few people in uniform walked past, toward their own seats.

Miles held his breath, not really sure what to say or do. Daniel shifted on his feet. _Do something Miles, you didn't come here for nothing. _The urgency of the situation crumbled the walls of his tougher façade. Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Daniel's small frame, careful not to startle him.

"Bye, Dan." He breathed out, sorrow and relief mixing in his gut. Daniel tensed immediately. Miles knew ever since they met that he was a pretty touchy person, but never really the receiver of it. After a moment of being surprise, Daniel returned the hug. Miles had _never_ been a touchy person, but honestly this was the best thing that had happened to him all week.

"Bye, Miles." It hurt to break the hug, but Miles was already flushing sheepishly enough. He rubbed the back of his neck as Daniel blinked and smiled at him.

"Don't do anything stupid," he added, trying to reclaim his character. Daniel smiled a little wider.

"Be good, don't get into trouble." He responded.

"Last call for sub boarding!" The man hanging out of the sub entrance called again, checking his watch meticulously. Daniel spun on his feet and began walking down the dock, but not before waving. Miles returned it, his stomach twisting at all the bittersweet feelings. Daniel's small frame disappeared into the sub, and the hatch shut.

Miles took a deep breath. Daniel was gone.

Sure, Miles was fashionably late for testing—as he was for everything—but he still felt pretty confident about it. So long as they didn't ask any math questions, he'd be fine. It was, however, not the kind of testing he expected. Though, he didn't expect anything less bizarre from Dharma. Of course, Juliet passed every test with flying colors, much to James' discouragement. And Horace had to passive-aggressively explain to Jin that they didn't have any tests for non-English speakers.

An eventful morning, he surmised. And, probably an eventful day at work too. He was glad they were allowed to walk home for a bit before their shifts started. Miles was thankful he could play his and Dan's spat off coolly, at least Juliet didn't ask a lot of questions. Everything felt right in the world, for the most part.

That is, until Horace showed up with a bag full of brownies and nervously shoved them into James' hands, telling him to 'do something with them' and it was really important. And, if there was one thing Miles adored it was junk food.

Juliet had been conversing with James in the beams of morning light coming in from one of the windows. She had picked up one of the small windowsill figurines and was fidgeting with it in that delicate way of hers as she talked.

"I don't think they were _that_ easy." She explained, to which James rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"You don't have to play it off to make me feel better, Pollyanna. What kinda tests were those anyways? 'Punch Strength?' Why would they want that?"

"You _are_ security." She used the pad of her thumb to wipe away some dust from the little figure and placed it back in its place on the windowsill.

"Security with a gun. Did they have us shoot targets? No! Do they think we're gonna get into hand-to-hand combat with tree wookies? In case you didn't remember, lil' miss "Ellie" had a rifle that was almost as big as she was."

She couldn't suppress a smile at that, looking away and tipping her head to one side knowingly.

He scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, rub in your "observation" skills too. They show me a picture of a buncha grass and trees and ask me how many people were in it? There wasn't _any_ person I could see—But you said twelve and barely even looked at it, and you were _right!"_

"You're working yourself up over this, James. Horace said there isn't any winning or losing, it's just to measu—Miles, did you just eat that?!"

Miles, face covered with brownie crumbs, didn't feel the need to give a verbal answer. He simply shrugged and kept chewing. Juliet sighed and headed to the kitchen, where the bag of suspicious brownies was sitting on the counter. James followed.

"Well," he remarked, "I guess we _are_ gonna find out what's in those—eventually." Juliet frowned at the now open bag, then quickly reached forward and grabbed one.

"Hold on Jules, what do you think—" He couldn't stop her before she ate it. "Why, I would never think of you as the type!" He exclaimed with mock surprise. She smiled and shrugged, joining Miles in sitting on the countertop to eat them.

"He said we have to do _something_ with them," she explained nonchalantly.

"_Some_ of us," he glared at Miles, "have important work to do today."

"What, like Jerry?" Miles cracked through a mouthful of brownie.

James opened his mouth to dispute but shut it without saying anything. "Yeah, okay." He too reached forward and grabbed a brownie. "Peer pressure," he grumbled, biting into it.

Juliet laughed. "Why, Sherriff LaFleur! You have an _important_ job to do."

"What, like triaging some stay-at-home housewives? Maybe rescuing a little kitten from a tree?" He hoisted himself up onto the counter.

Juliet tipped her head to one side thoughtfully, smiling. "I suppose."

"Look, Blondie. Nothin' happens here, inside or out. I think we're gonna be just fine."


	3. Chapter 3

The van jolted perilously atop its squeaking axels and groaning wheels as it staggered unhurriedly uphill, sputtering out clouds of exhaust behind it. It traced a path along the winding, bumpy road leading through the outlands and toward a copse of unfelled bush that bordered the pylons. The Volkswagen careened around a sharp curve in the road on its uphill climb, sending some of the more curious wildlife fleeing into the safety of the brush. As the van reached the treeline and climbed the hilltop, baby-pink sunlight shone through the rugged treetops and into the open van windows.

Horace squinted in the bright light, twisting to look out the back windshield of the van at the path from which they had come. Phil adjusted himself nervously in the driver's seat, chewing absentmindedly on a half-smoked cigarette.

"Your arm's looking a lot better!" Horace pointed out cheerily.

"_You're_ trying to change the subject. Don't you think you're moving too fast with her, man?"

Horace blinked, eyes quickly straying to the window to watch the shifting shadows and beams of sunlight through the bamboo that whizzed by.

"What, Amy?" He laughed, tugging at the collar of his jumpsuit. "We're—We're not moving anywhere." He affirmed, eyes sparkling good-naturedly.

Phil rolled his eyes. "_Please_. The two of you are like glue, man. If you aren't careful, we're gonna have some rumors around here before long."

Horace waved his hand as if to dispel the unspoken gossip. "Of course, there'll be rumors, but it's unavoidable when you have a bunch of folks in the same place." He explained. The mathematician adjusted his glasses and draped his arm over the open window of the van, breathing in the jungle air.

"'Sides, Phil, it's about time you got some rumors of your own going! What's the point in being here if you don't have a little fun?" He grinned cheekily.

Phil huffed bemusedly. "I have a girl at home, I gotta keep saying this every week." After Horace didn't answer except for a grin, he added, "you act like you don't believe me!"

Frustratedly, the security officer took the cigarette from out of his mouth and tossed it haphazardly out of the window, where it landed on a patch of dew-laden grass that lined the gravel road. Horace sat up to quickly look through the back windshield.

"I hope you're thinking of going back to pick that up," Horace mumbled, though his tone carried no malice. "LaFleur said—"

Phil's grip tightened around the sun-beaten steering wheel. "Is he all you talk about now? I don't wanna know what LaFleur said, I'm probably gonna hear it from him anyways."

"What's wrong with him? He's a great guy."

"You're just saying that because he saved your neck with Richard." Phil pointed out, a smug tone creeping into his voice, as though he was proud to know of such an event. "And he's bossy." 

"I think leaderly is a more appropriate term." Horace corrected nobly.

"Leaderly—Is that even a real word?" Phil snickered.

"I don't know, I'm a mathematician not a—watch the curve!"

The van hit a bump and careened alarmingly close to a long, sloping drop-off, before the metal carriage swung the other way as Phil took them down a lesser-used branch of the road. The temperate bush obscuring the sunlight overhead transitioned into sparser vegetation and the occasional patch of bamboo.

Phil rolled his eyes, as if he were bothered by going out on a security call. It was unlikely it was anything, anyways. For all they knew, _Straume_ could have sent them out on a bogus call so he and his buddies could hold up the place. The lanky security officer narrowed his eyes on the road ahead. It's not like Horace would give a damn anyways, he seemed enthralled with LaFleur's humble Sherriff act. Though, Phil had to admit he was itching for any chance to prove the new guards unfit to boss him around, and he couldn't wait to rub it in Horace's face when they got to the "breach in the fence," only to find nothing.

Finally, the van veered back out onto the main dirt road and hit the hill which carried it through a tunnel of brush, the branches weaving together overhead to form a natural arch. As they hit the bottom of the slope, the vegetation on either side of the road transitioned quickly into open air and long, scrubby grass on one side, the bottom of which sidled up against the pylons.

Now in full view of the fence, Phil found a less-steep area to deviate off the road and into the grass, fully content to park and let Horace exhaust himself looking for the nonexistent threat. As they came into view of the pylons, however, Horace jolted up in his seat. _Overreacting_, Phil dismissed it, too hungover and disinterested to care. Phil kicked back as the van rolled to a stop, fishing out another cigarette.

Horace sat up and whipped out his walkie with such force that it not only shook the carriage of the van but knocked the cigarette out of his hand as well. The rusted hinges whined as he kicked open the door, nearly falling over on his way out. Phil was tempted to roll his eyes, but suddenly a scream ripped through the air, a woman's scream. Fumbling with the keys, he kicked open his own door and stumbled out. Another scream tore into the peaceful jungle ambience and sent several songbirds flying away from their perches, desperate to escape the noise.

By the time Phil had slammed the van door shut, Horace was already standing in the tall, looming shadow of the potential threat, holding the walkie up to his mouth

"U-uhm… LaFleur? We have a problem."

The sound of distant swears were accompanied by the sound of a rack of shelves being bumped, and of several things falling over in the other room. A clattering alerted Miles, who spun around in his chair to see James stumbling out of the side room.

"Jungle cavalry?" He guessed, not awake enough to feel genuine concern. After a few days of being on the job, Miles was convinced nothing ever really happened here.

LaFleur continued to fumble with the zipper of his jumpsuit, trying to zip it up as quickly as humanly possible.

"Security breach at the east edge of the fence, get 'yer keys and go grab a van for me. Boss says we've got two intruders."

Miles stood up and stretched, shaking some of the pins-and-needles out of his right leg. "Intruders? Not teenage hooligans?"

LaFleur shrugged on the rest of his jumpsuit and clambered to attach all his tools to his belt. "Didn't give me any details. Boss sounded pretty worked up about it. Must'a been important for him to hang up on me like that."

Miles, who was decidedly not as worried as LaFleur, shuffled to get his own things from the faux-wood bench in front of the monitors, brushing some dust from the top of his walkie. "Hmph." 

Fishing some keys out of his pocket, Miles shuffled unconcernedly toward the staircase. The cool draft coming from the outer corridor was a welcome relief from the stale air in the underground concrete box Horace called a "security center."

Jin turned to greet him from his seat at the front desk, occupying himself with the phonetic alphabet cards Juliet had made him. Miles returned his nod of greeting as he put up one hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight coming in through the window.

He threw a glance over his shoulder at Jin as he headed for the door. He seemed… weird. He and Juliet had been talking a lot.

Miles made his way through the sunlit lobby, listening with half-an-ear to the goings-on within the office as he passed by. The familiar sounds of hushed voices and typewriter clicks emanated from the other side of their shared wall. He paused to glance at himself in the inset mirror on said wall, frowning as he reached up to brush a cobweb out of his hair. _Be nice to have some kinda mirror down there so I don't look like a damn clown comin' up onto the surface_

He adjusted his jumpsuit and leaned in closer to the mirror, squinting at his reflection. He didn't consider himself a _narcissist_, sure, but—was there something moving in the mirror? Curiously, he lifted a finger and tapped the glass—once, then twice. He could feel the vibrations of the thick glass pane.

_Tap, tap_. He heard the clink of a fingernail tapping the glass from the other side, where the office was. Miles had barely enough time to realize what had happened when the doors to the stairwell swung open and James jogged out, blowing past him.

"Let's go Johnny Bravo, ain't got no time to fix yer look, we've got work to do." He halted abruptly right in front of the door, cursing as his eyes burned in the sunlight. Miles tore himself away from the mirror, keys in hand, and pushed out of the front door.

Immediately, a broiling-hot breeze hit him square in the face, like a wind straight out of an oven. The humidity in the air was palpable. At least in Encino, the heat wasn't as thick and choking. Squinting in the bright sunlight, Miles turned sharply down one of the neatly swept sidewalks leading down into the heart of the neighborhood.

"_Watch_ where you're going!" Miles skidded to a halt just before colliding with a labcoat-clad figure coming in the opposite direction. He froze, head snapping up to meet Pierre Chang's scathing glare.

The astrophysicist haughtily adjusted his labcoat, towering over Miles, who stood stock-still. Their eyes met, and Pierre squinted, as if to study him. Miles took a step back and returned the scrutinizing gaze. Though taller and older with more angular features, Miles had to admit they looked alike. He wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. Pierre looked at him as if he had just stepped out of a mirror, pausing his moment of frustration to look him over. After a mutual once-over, Pierre turned and walked away, frowning thoughtfully.

"No time for bonding, we got a place to be, Enos!"

"_Ow!_ Watch it!" Miles snapped as LaFleur almost ran right into him, stumbling off to one side.

He turned to see James peering over his shoulder at the retreating scientist, and followed his gaze, frowning. Pierre towered over the other Dharma civilians, and along with his sour expression and trailing labcoat, it set him apart greatly from everyone else.

"I'd hate to have a run-in with him." He remarked, looking from Pierre to Miles.

Miles sniffed. "Yeah, and you think that's the worst of it?" He lowered his voice as to not alert any passers-by. "He's my _dad_."

James blinked at him, taking all the time in the world to process this information. "He's your dad?—"

Miles tugged the sleeve of his jumpsuit to drag him away from the path, frowning admonishingly. "Be quiet!"

Both heads turned as Rosie, another resident, passed by with a smile and a wave. Miles sighed. Sometimes, he wished he could be as blissfully unaware as the Dharma folk.

"I met my mom the other day," Miles started quietly, eyes darting up at the path to make sure they weren't raising suspicions. "Same name, same voice… and Pierre's my dad. You with me?"

Judging by his expression, James is not with him.

"_Jim, _are you with me?"

"I don't know what 'ta say to that."

Miles shoved his hands in his jumpsuit pockets. "I don't know either… 's weird, man."

"It's, what, 1974?... I'm still out there as a kid somewhere." James dug the toe of his boot into the manicured lawn on the side of the pathway. A songbird on a nearby branch stooped low to look at the two of them, then pushed off its perch and flew to a nearby roof.

Realizing he'd gotten a bit more sentimental than he should have, Miles frowned and turned his gaze to a fern in the distance.

"Right… Anyways, let's go ahead and go, we got a place to be."

It wasn't hard to see what had scared the wits out of Horace once they arrived. James felt his knees threaten to lock as he swung the van door shut, revealing a group of figures standing in the undulating tall wild grass near the pylons. Even before his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, his ears picked up on the unmistakable sound of a woman screaming nearby.

He rounded the front of the van to meet Miles on the passenger side, both of then stopped and standing dumbfounded.

It—or her, rather—towered over Horace, who had never looked more relieved to see that the cavalry had been called. Oh, and Phil was there too, unfortunately. James forced himself to take a few steps forward to better take in the 'intruder.'

The closer he got, the more he realized how _tall_ she truly was, she easily towered over him as well as Horace. She was clothed in a dress of sorts, made of many pelts and patterned fabrics, and had impossibly long dark, curly hair which poured over her back and shoulders like a lion's mane.

The intruder turned her round, dark-skinned face and glimmering eyes on the men standing in front of her. She didn't appear to be… visibly armed, at least.

"Greetings." Her voice was loud and deep, reverberating in James' bones. It didn't carry any obvious malice, but wasn't overly friendly, either. The trespasser met his suspicious gaze from under long, thick lashes.

"Greetings 'ta you too, I guess." He collected himself and stepped in front of Horace, who was already dangerously close to cowering behind him. "Care to explain what you're doin' in our little part of the island?"

Another blood-curdling scream ripped through the air, all heads turning in the direction of a small dip in the ground up against one of the pylons, the insides of which were concealed by a canopy of ferns and branches and overhanging rocks.

The woman, not at all fazed by the sounds of distress, slowly turned her head to observe the treeline, beyond which lay the Barracks. She seemed to take her time in forming a response.

"It's customary to come to this clearing to give birth. It appears; however, someone has built all over it."

Horace cleared his throat and stepped cautiously out of James' shadow. "If I may interject… It's been almost four years since we've constructed the sonar fence, and…" His voice tapered as the mysterious intruder turned her gaze on him.

Miles shifted nervously on his feet, staring at the small den from where the screaming emanated. "How the hell did you get inside the fence?"

James' head swung between the small group of security, all of whom could easily fit in the shadow of this new adversary.

"Are you… a Hostile?" Horace pipes up, regaining some confidence.

The woman frowns, confused. "What did you just call me?" 

"A-Are you… are you a _hostile_—do you know Richard?" Horace continued, puffing his chest out.

James shifted his feet in the dry grass. _Of course, he's trying to get information at a time like this. Holding conversation in the middle of whatever the hell this is._ He squinted past the bright sunlight to study the intruder's face.

"Oh," her eyes flash with recognition. "Yes, Richard… He says he 'does not wish to associate with us.'"

Horace perked up, now curious, though he still seemed to cower in James' shadow. "Where do you live, then?—"

Another terrifying scream rippled across the clearing, making James flinch. He sucked in a breath, trying to make sense of what was happening. Some suspicious ladies made their way in past the fence to give birth in a magic clearing, or something along those lines.

_Great, some lady's givin' birth and it's what, my third day on the job?... Givin' birth…_

"Silence," the intruder boomed, cutting across Horace's timid questioning. Her eyes narrowed. "If you have nothing to contribute then _leave us be_."

Horace opened his mouth to say something, and then looked imploringly at James.

"Why are you looking at _him?_ Just do something, Horace!" Phil barked shrilly, though he was still cowering in Jim's shadow.

Miles stalked across the grass to come face-to-face with Phil. "Of all the times to be jealous, did you _have_ to pick this one?"

"Jealous!?" Phil hissed defensively, packing in his bad arm self-consciously. "You're the one picking a fight! All _I'm_ saying is this clown hasn't even been here a full week—"

James sucked in a breath. He wouldn't go as far as to say he _hated_ Phil, but the guy was more like a mosquito buzzing in his ear than anything else. If only he could be shut up as easy. He could still feel Horace staring at him expectantly and hear the anguished cries of the birthing woman nearby. Birthing…

James spun on his heels and started up the hill toward the treeline, fishing the van keys out of his pocket.

"See?! What did I tell you, Horace?—" Phil's shrill bark was cut off by Miles snapping something unintelligible at him.

"Where the hell are you going, S—Jim?" Miles turned his attention to his coworker, who was now hiking his way toward the van.

"I'm goin' ta get Juliet."

"There aren't really f or v sounds… Though I'm sure we can figure something out." The pen tip dangled out of the corner of her mouth as she stared thoughtfully at the paper. Making a few more marks with her pen, she turned the paper around and slid it across the table to Jin.

He frowned, reading over the cleanly-lined characters. "Fireplace." He sounded it out confidently.

Juliet beamed. "Very good! You're a quick learner." It felt nice, to give praise to someone. Teaching them something other than how to break someone's arm or use a rifle, something innocent.

"Quick learner," he echoed, "thank you." Juliet gently slid the paper back and looked over her pronunciation guide. It wasn't like she knew any Korean, but it was worth a try. Something to occupy herself with until she found her own menial calling here.

"It is nice out today." Jin said, turning to the open window, letting in the late afternoon sunlight and the sounds of the bustling neighborhood around them. Juliet took in a deep breath of the scent of freshly mowed grass from outside. It smelled like home. Sitting here, she could almost forget she was still on the island.

"Very nice," she agreed. Her gaze fell on her half-drunk coffee cup still on the counter. Juliet hummed thoughtfully, beginning to sound out the word 'coffee' in her head and translate it onto the paper.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the sidewalk outside didn't catch her attention until she felt them thrumming up the steps to the small concrete porch at the front door. The iron security door rattled with the effort of someone trying (and failing) to open it, and then the sound of someone fiddling with the knob.

Juliet's head snapped up as both doors swung open, revealing James panting in the doorway. There was an urgency in his eyes, and he was looking right at her.

"James?" She couldn't hide the concern in her voice. _Had the hostiles come back for them?_

"Juliet," he panted, out of breath. "I need—there's an emergency—"

"James." She repeated, sternly.

"Someone's giving birth." The sentence sent ice through her veins and a ball of dread welled up in her stomach. "By the fence—we _need_ you." His eyes were wide, and he looked terrified. She could tell it was genuine.

_You need me? You need me, of all people_. The words lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. She couldn't run for long; she should have known. '_It's all you're good for, after all. That's the whole reason you're here.'_

"Juliet," he pleaded, he could tell by her expression something was up.

Her brows furrowed, fists balling. What should she say? What should she do? She threw down her pen, more violently than she meant to, and stormed up to him.

"Take me there." She ordered. It was best to get this over with. Still, thoughts whirled in her head. _Does Horace know I'm a doctor now? Is this it, am I doomed to do this over and over again? To have more women die? _

James gripped the steering wheel, feeling the burn from it being hot from sitting out in the sun. Green trees whipped by as they entered the small ring of forest separating the Outlands from the fence.

This is the first time in a long while they'd been alone together. He could see her out of the corner of her eye. She had that _look_ in her eyes, the kind she had when she first got here. Like she was somewhere else. Regret balled in his gut, but he forced it back down. It was too late now. He shouldn't care, should he? He was doing the right thing, nobody else he knew could help with this.

Juliet seemed content to direct her thousand-yard-stare at her hands, which sat in her lap. The van jolted, but she seemed still as a statue.

"What did you tell him?" She started, trying to steady the waver in her voice.

James swallowed. "Who, Horace?" That must be it. Why she seems so upset. For all he knew they were scientists on a boat but having her be a doctor might throw a wrench into that. But no matter, he could twist this around easy and have them right back where they were before—

It wasn't that. He could tell. He opened his mouth to voice his thoughts, but the words died in his throat, it was something deeper than that.

"For all they know 'yer just a woman who knows how to help other women, not that you're a doctor or anythin'." The comfort was empty, but he felt he had to give some kind of effort. She gave him no reaction.

"I didn't know who else could help." He offered, but it sounded hollow. It was true, though.

Juliet's fingers twitched in her lap; he could see her stiffen.

"It's not that," she said quietly, "It's not that at all." She paused, biting her lip, as if considering whether or not to continue talking.

"This island isn't a good place for pregnant women, James. Either that, or I'm a terrible doctor." She met his gaze. "I'll do what I can. But it's unlikely I'll do anything but disappoint."

_That's not true, blondie._ But he could see the hurt in her eyes. He should have known, but some part of him wanted to hold onto his pride. He was doing the right thing; how _could_ he have known?

The ride was painfully silent after that.

"I told you to leave us alone." Boomed the intruder, towering over Horace and Phil. She turned her glare to the approaching van. Horace had never looked so relieved.

"Juliet!" He exclaimed as she exited the van on shaking legs, "I didn't know you—" She pushed past him without a word, standing fearlessly in the shadow of the trespasser.

The mystery woman cocked her head to one side, as if amused. "Oh. A gift to me, I assume?" She quipped, catching Juliet's eyes.

"I'm here to help." She nodded toward the source of the anguished screams.

James stood close behind, expecting this woman to turn her away. Instead, she let the hostility out of her gaze.

"And what is your name?" The harshness in her tone dropped like a shot bird from the sky.

"She didn't ask me for _my_ name," Miles huffed.

"Because it's stitched right on 'ya pocket," James shot back, his eyes glued to Juliet.

"Juliet." She answered, voice level. She meant business. It stung, slightly, to see her back to her 'old' self, but she was handling this amazingly. Even Horace seemed to marvel. Though, perhaps he was just relieved the cavalry was here.

"Juliet," she echoed thoughtfully, as if forgetting her travelling buddy was in labor a few feet away. "What a nice name. I'm Diana." Fitting name.

"I don't think she needs any help, but I appreciate the hospitality," Diana continued, beaming at Juliet, who stood emotionless in her shadow, "Much nicer than your _friends_."

"Ego dolor… Ego dolor…" A pained moan emanated from where the birthing woman lay hidden near the fence.

Juliet's head snapped in the direction of the cries. "Does she speak English?"

"No, do you speak Latin?"

"Yes." Her answer caught James by surprise. He glanced at Horace, who was still awe-struck as he watched. "What's her name?"

"Eliana," Diana's switch from hostile and intimidating to charming was abrupt, to say the least.

Phil frowned. "Oh, come _on_," he whined quietly, "how come she's so nice to her?"

Diana had begun leading her to where Eliana was in labor, but Horace stepped forward. "Wait, wait, you can't just… Take one of us with you!" He piped up.

Juliet turned to stare blankly at him. "You all need to leave. It's too crowded here." Her eyes turned on James. He could still see the hurt.

"Let's go, boss," he encouraged gruffly, trying to draw Horace away before he asked any more questions.

"I'm not leaving one of our own with—with—" Endearing, for sure. But James wasn't in the mood. Neither was Juliet, it seemed.

"It's women's business," She said evenly. Now she was speaking his language.

Horace glanced around, then dipped his head. "R-Right, but… are you sure you're okay, Juliet?" He blinked.

"I'm fine, just go."

Miles was staring at James expectantly. "What'd you say to her, man?"

The security officer spun on his heels and began crowding everyone back toward their respective vans. They had things to do today, after all.

"I can't believe you just _left_ her there! That woman—Diana… she's huge, man! Scary, too!" Miles rolled his eyes as Phil continued squeaking. Right, right, like he cares.

"She wanted to stay there, it's none of my business—Phil I _told_ you to hold that thing there! Now it's—" The broken part of the gutter attached to the eave of a roof clattered onto the concrete. Miles groaned, handing it back to Phil, at the top of the rickety standard-issue Workman's ladder.

"I can't believe they have us doing hard labor," Phil whined, affixing the gutter piece back to where it was supposed to be.

"Hard labor my ass, how'd you like to do actual Workmen jobs, like scrubbin' latrines?" Miles quipped, already getting a headache from all the whining and complaining. Good God, how did Phil never stop talking?

"That's not _all_ they do," corrected Phil.

"I couldn't care less, man." Miles leaned back against the yellow slatted siding of the Dharma house, looking out from the small alley toward where he could see a small piece of the Outlands. _They can't be back yet, can they?_

Of course, the 'inspection' had to happen on the same day two ladies decided to make a pit stop inside their fence. Like the timing could be any worse. And now they had to go around and pick up after everyone, make sure no funny business was happening. _It's, what, '74? Yeah, Cold War times. Figures as much._

"We don't have to fix every nook and cranny," Phil remarked, from somewhere above. Miles decided it was best to ignore him, instead wiping sweat from his brow and watching some kids run around in one of the many grassy quads nestled in the neighborhood.

His eyes fell on Jin, leaning against the opposite wall on the other side of the alley. According to Jim, he'd been learning English with Juliet. _They spend a lot of time together._ He thought back to the conversation he'd overheard through the vents.

He was no stranger to, as he put it, 'paranormal business', but that didn't mean he didn't hate hearing about it. He hated how it was used in stories and all, like it was interesting. _If they knew what this was really like I bet they'd stop._

"_I _think you need to take more time off, take more walks." A voice echoed from around the corner, accompanied by 2 pairs of footsteps on the nearest sidewalk. Miles peered out from around the edge of the house.

"I get enough air on the Hydra. I'm not a dog who needs to be taken outside." Pierre responded coolly, though he still let Lara lead him down the sidewalk, hand in hand. Her flowy, 70s-patterned colorful clothes contrasted with her husband's stark white labcoat.

Miles felt a jolt in the pit of his stomach, Phil's squawking from up above drowned out by the roaring of his own pulse in his ears. He ducked back just enough to be out of sight.

Pierre stopped on the sidewalk, squinting out over the grassy quads to where a few Workmen were standing side by side in the shadow of a roof overhang, sharing beers. His lip curled, but Lara continued tugging him onward.

"Work, work, all day every day. I hope you're not going to be like this when we have a family." _God, she sounded just like she did when I was a kid_. The sight of her healthy, smiling, walking hand-in-hand with Dr. Chang was so strange.

"Hm." Was the scientist's only response. Miles ducked back further as they passed, Lara pointing out some of the colorful island birds that fluttered by out of the decorative trees. Their voices faded as they wandered further into the heat-warped distance, eventually turning a corner out of sight.

_I'm never going to get over how weird this is. I hope that crazy old man—Locke—comes back soon. I don't know if I could deal with this._

_Clunk! _The tinny sound of screws and metal clinking together came from overhead, and before he knew it, Miles was on his knees, pain throbbing through his skull.

"Sorry!" Phil exclaimed half-heartedly, fiddling with the now empty space on the roof overhang where the wayward piece of the gutter had been. Jin, concerned, ran up and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Miles, are you okay?" 

He sniffed. "Your English is… getting' better." He forced himself back up on his feet, dusting himself off and hoping nobody else saw. He heard Phil snicker from above him.

"This isn't a game, we've got stuff to do, man." Miles grabbed the now very busted-up gutter piece and tossed it back up to Phil, who made no attempt to catch it, instead letting it bounce off the roof eave and clatter back to the ground.

"Oops." _Jesus, could he get any more annoying? _On second thought, he'd rather deal with his young parents than an unruly coworker.

Miles laid a hand on the rickety Workman's ladder, fingers twitching with the effort it took to restrain himself from pushing it over.

"Do you have some kind of problem with us, man?" He hissed, voice a little lower. Not that he wasn't a 'drama queen,' as Char had put it, but he never liked confrontation. Nevertheless, he'd rather die than suck up to Gumby up there.

Phil looked down at him and frowned. "That you walked in here one day and got jobs without even asking, and now you act like you own the place? Sure, I got a problem."

Miles sniffed. "Did you miss the part where we saved you from being overrun by rowdy teenagers? Or how we busted our asses first day on the job to keep you from getting busted by the 'Fuzz?"

"I sure didn't miss the part where you walked out of the jungle holding rifles and carrying a dead body!" Retorted Phil. Miles gave the ladder a firm shove, causing Phil to stumble and grab onto the ladder, looking very offended.

To Miles, Phil was the annoying kid on the playground who would take any chance to tattle on you for doing the slightest thing. _He can cry to Horace all he wants, for all I care__orahh_.

"You have _no_ right to bully me, a coworker, and for all you know, your _superior_! Considering that I've been here longer than you."

"We have the same job, dumbass." Miles could feel Jin tugging on his arm, trying to catch his attention, but he continued to sneer at Phil. If he was going to get in trouble, he might as well go big or go home.

"If you're going to bully me, at least do your job as security, and make sure nobody else is doing anything un-Dharma." Phil nodded back across the quad.

Miles turned and saw what Jin was trying to warn him about. One of the Workmen dropped his can aside to stomp across the grass toward them. Judging by the long, sandy hair and the obvious slouch, there was no doubt in Miles' mind which one it was.

"Why don't you go tell him not to drink on the job and get _your_ arm busted like mine did!" Miles unhanded the ladder and stepped back. He wasn't against getting in trouble for the greater good, but when it came to getting his own ass kicked, he was no longer interested.

"'s that my ladder?" Slurred Roger, approaching as fast as he could under the influence. Realizing Miles and Jin were backing away, Phil's expression changed quickly.

"Wait—"

"Let's get going, Jin." Miles grabbed the taller Jin by his jumpsuit sleeve and ducked out of the alley the opposite way. It was obvious Roger was heading for Phil, anyways. Sounded like the two of them had bad blood, Miles couldn't exactly blame him.

Miles led the way through a narrow, grassy alley between two houses, thankful to be in the cool, damp shadows. They slowed between two walls, both of which covered with vines and ivy. Miles could hear the rattling of the ladder somewhere distant, but he stopped Jin.

"Wait."

Jin turned to look at him, blinking. Miles felt kind of bad, dragging him into everything. But he wasn't anything if not, well, nosy.

"Wait… Jin. I need to ask you," He could understand, he remembered being young and struggling to fit in, it was a terrible feeling. He also remembered growing up around this kinda stuff and if it was anyone that would know about mysterious apparitions, it would be him.

"Wait, wait. You saw Sun?" Jin blinked at him, he certainly understood _that_. For a moment all they could hear as the chirps of native birds overhead, and the muffled goings-on of the neighborhood.

He frowned. "Yes," He picked each word carefully, accompanying them with gestures, "Here, during the night." Alright.

Miles opened his mouth to voice his concerns but Jin started moving out from the alley, heading towards the place where sunlight shone through from the sidewalk nearby.

"Inspection," he answered simply over his shoulder. Miles huffed.

"You seem really quiet." Despite being all but humiliated at the fence earlier, Horace seemed his cheery, lame self. And, as usual, completely oblivious as to what was going on between Jim and Juliet.

"Hmph." James didn't have the energy to give him a real answer. He himself didn't even really _have_ a real answer. If anything, he was just glad Horace wasn't asking any questions. About Juliet, especially.

James turned to focus on the trees and vines whipping past as they made their way beyond the fence to the lake where the submarine surfaced. Of all the goddamn times for Dharma to have some kind of 'inspection', it _had_ to be today.

He was tempted to ask Horace to drive by the part of the fence where Juliet was, but it was a little late. _I doubt she'd wanna see me now, anyways._

His head dropped. On one hand, he cursed himself for jumping up too quickly. Juliet was a person too, not an on-call doctor. He was tempted to make some kind of wisecrack to himself, but it didn't seem the time. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wondered if that was what the Others used her for. _'This island isn't a good place for pregnant women, James. Either that, or I'm a terrible doctor.'_

_Son of a bitch._ He should have known. On the other hand, he wondered why he should care. After all, she was an Other at heart. Whether or not they were here together now, they were on opposite sides in the past. The sting of his damaged ego egged him toward the latter opinion. What else was he supposed to do? By what he'd heard the infirmary was a sham anyways. She was the only one qualified. Did she not trust him enough not to blow their cover? She _had_ to have read his file; known he'd pulled off countless successful cons.

Something told him that wasn't the case, though. It was unlike her to doubt someone just out of spite. _Unlike her… I don't even know what she's like. _Juliet had been and—as best James could guess—always will be a mystery, slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers. Other-hearted indeed.

The rest of the drive to the dock was uneventful, mostly silence and Horace occasionally trying to strike up small talk, nothing big. James could see his demeanor change as they broke out of the treeline and the van sputtered to a stop at the lakefront, though.

Upon exiting the van and walking up toward the dock, James could see Pierre's tall figure watching the surface of the lake stir. Horace took a moment to adjust his jumpsuit, shoving his hands in his jumpsuit pockets.

"Thanks for coming with me," he chirped, nodding his thanks. James returned it with a nod of his own, though his eyes still lingered on Pierre, who didn't acknowledge either of them. He took the moment to give his face the once-over. _I've gotta say. I can kinda see Miles._

The lake surface stirred again, water splashing over the edge of the dock as a sleek, streamlined metal shape began to surface. It was obviously different from any Dharma submarine. While the Dharma machines were clunky and obvious, this one was obviously more tactical, pitch-black and bearing no marks. The hand standing at the edge of the deck helped whoever was opening it from the inside.

"We'll get it over with in a flash!" Horace was saying, "they just have to poke around is all, make sure nothing funny's goin' on, and then Pierre will take them to some of the other stations."

"Any chance they're gonna get the Miracle of Life tour when 'pokin' around', Chief?"

Horace paused, and then shrugged. "Probably not." Though, judging by how he lowered his voice, it was unlikely Pierre knew, either.

During the time they'd been speaking, the deckhand had managed to help open the submarine, revealing two people helping out the 'FBI agent' who would come inspect them.

"That's not them… right?" Horace blinked.

Up from the belly of the submarine stepped a woman with long, dark brown hair done up in a picture-perfect Farrah Fawcett style, wearing a pitch-black pantsuit which bore a shining badge on the left shoulder. It bore no name. Even in flats she was tall, and bore the same intimidating aura as Pierre, or the nameless scientists who worked in the ground-level office of the security building.

Following closely on her heels was a small man with shaggy blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, some of it falling in a messy fringe over his face. Unlike his superior, he wore no dark shades and had no badge. He did have, however a thick black leather leash, which he tugged up from the hatch of the submarine.

One of the deckhands had slipped inside and was helping assist the third and final member of the team up from behind. With a fierce scrabbling of claws on the metal of the sub, the smaller agent hauled up a big, white dog from the hatch. It sprung gracefully onto the dock, shaking out its fur and wandering to one side of the rickety wooden surface. Its handler, who looked far from being able to control the dog should something happen, tried to tug it back half-heartedly. The dog wore a bulky collar with the foreboding letters 'FBI' stitched in white across it.

_Nice. Quite the intimidating cast of characters._

The woman, obviously the lead of the party, fished a cigarette out of her pocket and accepted a light from the dog handler, who surveyed the dock nervously.

Horace nodded in greeting, "Good afternoon! I hope you had a good ride." Before he could say anything else, however, Pierre stepped rather abruptly in front of him. The leader of the group shook his hand wordlessly.

"These are your guides to the Barracks."

Horace smiled and waved cheekily, catching the attention of the dog, who began heading toward him of its own volition, walking until it reached the end of its lead.

Horace cleared his throat. "I'm Horace, and this is LaFleur, he's a member of our security," he announced proudly.

"This is Arlo." The woman motioned to the handler, who was glancing nervously at Horace. He flashed his own cheeky smile. The lead woman made no mention of her own name. "And that's Roxie." The dog lifted her head at the mention of her name. She was a plain-old police dog by the looks of it, despite the snow-white pelt and—on closer inspection–her red eyes. _Weird dog for a weird island_.

"Let's go ahead and get started," chirped Horace, sounding glad to be in the lead. "We should give you a tour of the perimeter first!" He herded them all toward the van, taking a breath.

"Got anything in 'yer pockets there? You oughta let me find out before 'Roxie' does." James drawled as soon as the inspection party (and Pierre) were out of earshot.

Horace frowned. "Of course not! Not today, anyways." He fished a hand out of his jumpsuit and made an attempt to give Jim a brotherly pat on the back despite their height difference. "This will be a piece of cake, it'll all run smooth, I promise!" It sounded more like he was convincing himself, but Jim shrugged and decided to take him at face-value. _Sure_.

His gaze lifted toward the treeline. What was Juliet doing right now?

"Tu bene facitis," she choked out breathlessly. '_You're doing well'_. Juliet sat back on her haunches, the scrubby grass digging into her knees. Eliana rolled over onto one side, panting in the humid air. Even in the shade of the small den she found herself in, it was still broiling hot.

_Think, think, focus._ Juliet struggled to stay within her own body, the cold tingling numbing her hands and making her arms shake. She couldn't do this, she was sure. The baby wasn't coming early, the mother seemed fine, everything was going _fine_ but—

Juliet wasn't fine. She cursed herself for shrinking back into her old self so easily. Like she was just back where she started. She struggled to keep a hold on herself as the calls of native birds faded into the beeping of a heart monitor, the distant whoops of jackals starting to sound more like 'she's gone,' and 'do something!'.

"Quod factum est?" She was thankful for Eliana's breathless question. '_What happened?'_

How was she supposed to answer? Nothing happened, not really. She was the problem this time, not the birth complications.

With a long, shaky breath, Juliet pulled her hair back to the best of her ability. She didn't expect to be coming out here when she dressed, feeling out of place sitting in the dirt and grass wearing light-colored clothes, more fit for a day in the neighborhood sun rather than midwifing.

She might have considered it some kind of sign if she were in a different situation; the one day she dresses civilized, she's dragged back out to do what she was brought here to do. What she was meant to do.

"Sedret recta." She said firmly, helping Eliana adjust. _'Sit up straight.' _ If Juliet was thankful for one thing, it was how cooperative she was. Speaking Latin words burned her tongue, it made her think of how she had to speak to the Others in Latin, back when they were still flashing through time.

'_How did you know they were speaking Latin?'_

'_Because they're Others.'_

And she was an Other, of course. It was just like she was bunking with James and the rest of the survivors until she was brought back to her true purpose. To help women give birth, to eventually fail. Just when she was getting comfortable, go figure.

Juliet couldn't find it in her to be mad at James. He really didn't know what else to do, it was obvious. It wasn't his fault she thought she do something else, _be_ someone else. It was clear, there was no getting around it. As much as she longed to go back to 'normal', to live and dress and act civilized, it wasn't her normal. This was the new normal. _'Living with them has made you soft. I told you to be careful.' _Ben's voice rang cold and tinny in her ear, and she couldn't stop herself from screwing up her face to try and rid her mind of him.

After a moment, she pulled away from the newly repositioned Eliana. She was talking, giving instructions cool and calm like she always did. Like she was trained to do. So why did she feel so separate, as if somewhere out of her own body? Like watching herself from somewhere above. _I'm fine, I'm _fine.

"We have plays during the spring and fall! Y'know, seasonal equinoxes and all that." Horace continued babbling to the far-from-enthralled inspection party.

"Weren't they just at war with the O—Hostiles?" Miles remarked, plodding alongside James, watching Roxie wander on up ahead. She kept glancing back over her shoulder at Miles, tail tucking between her legs whenever she laid eyes on him.

"Guess they're really a fun-lovin' bunch," James put his head closer to Miles'. "Wouldn't have happened to borrow anything from Horace this morning, did 'ya?" He nodded toward the nervously panting Roxie.

Miles sniffed, digging his hands into his pockets. "Animals don't like me, man,"

"Ah, all that Ghostbuster stuff, eh?"

"Not a joke, man," Miles rolled his eyes, James could tell this had to be the hundredth time someone had asked him something like that, "Not all fun and games, it's more like endless torture."

_Dramatic._ James sniffed. "Alrighty then Mulder, say what you want 'bout it." He turned to look over his shoulder. Pierre had been following them quite a way back, staying separate from the group. Jim couldn't help but wonder if he was eavesdropping.

Miles turned to follow his gaze for a brief moment. "Why don't you tell me what you and Juliet got goin' on, any reason you dragged her out there?"

James took a moment to gather his words. "'Thought it would help, in case somethin' went wrong." He paused, seeing as Miles was still raising a brow at him expectantly. With a sigh, he continued, "Maybe I shouldn't have."

"Ya think? She looked pissed, man,"

"Awful protective," Jim quipped, trying to take some of the heat off of him. Miles sputtered.

"Look, all I'm saying is I think you're expecting a little much. Even if what's-her-face—_Diana_—liked Juliet more than us…"

James pressed his lips together. Miles didn't really have a right to be as on her side as he was, did he? He didn't even know her as long as Jim did. Not that any of them really knew her, though. Figures as much, though, with Juliet playing mother hen to all of them. Except James. _Did she feel uncomfortable around him?_

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think Mr. Asshole Straume here was showing some _empathy_, gotta keep that in check," He quipped. Miles shoved him half-heartedly. Miles was from somewhere else, from another side, completely removed from the dance between the survivors and the Others. Not that James was all that well-equipped at making friends in the first place, he was glad not to be in constant turmoil for once.

Both of them startled as Roxie, who had been walking calmly ahead of them, veered to one side and lunged at the edge of the path, barking. Horace yelped and leapt away from her like a man on fire, everyone else turning to look. Arlo struggled to keep her in one place as she tugged on the very edge of her lead, snarling and bucking against the concrete with muscular back legs.

"Watch it!" Snarled her apparent target, somewhere up ahead out of sight. James' heart jumped in his chest. They hadn't forgot to check something out, had they? He plodded up ahead to see what the fuss was about.

The unnamed lead of the party was snatching the lead out of Arlo's hands, snapping at him.

"I'd sure hope that's not what she does when she hits on somethin'." Remarked James, reaching out to help pull her back, but the lead was yanked out of his reach.

"Of _course_ not!" Corrected the lead lady, glaring at him from behind the pitch-black shades. "She's supposed to sit down and _point—_"

"Point my ass—_oof!_" Roxie veered off to one side, sweeping Arlo's legs out from under him and knocking him back into James, both of them tumbling backward. In a second, the snow-white dog launched off one side of the sidewalk and flew toward her jumpsuit-clad target, who stumbled intoxicatedly out of her way.

Before she could lock jaws on her target, Roxie yelped as her collar tugged back against her neck, jerking her backwards. Miles, digging his heels into the grass, had grabbed onto the very end of the lead and stopped her. Though Miles wasn't the most physically strong out of the group, the tug was enough to stun the dog, who dropped back onto all fours and spun to face whatever had stopped her.

Upon whipping around to face Miles, however, her snarl dropped immediately. Roxie cowered immediately, knees buckling and eyes blowing wide, tail tucking between her legs.

In the brief moment Roxie had been stunned, James sat up and brushed the grit from his jumpsuit, just in time to catch Roger stumbling away, Horace following at his heels.

_Of course the dog would go 'fer him, I don't blame 'er. _

"I'm so sorry man, we didn't know she'd do that—"

Roger swatted him away, snarling.

"I don't want 'yer apologies. Get your dog under control." He sniffed, ambling around the corner. Horace paused, nervously shoving his hands in his jumpsuit.

The unnamed FBI lead had taken the lead from Miles' hands and was scolding Roxie, who was hiding from Miles behind her legs. Miles dusted himself off and took a few strides toward James.

"Need any help?"

"No," James sniffed.

Both heads turned to see Horace nervously making his way over to them. The lead of the FBI party was occupied with Arlo.

"How's the PR goin'?" 

Horace dipped his head sheepishly. "Don't worry about him, he—I was worried he'd be trouble." He quickly added, "Not that anyone here at Dharma is a burden in any way! We try to be open-minded."

James resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Still, he was just glad nobody was getting in trouble… yet.

"Have you seen Phil anywhere? He was supposed to be keeping track of all the cats…" He fidgeted with the collar of his jumpsuit.

"Oh, right." James turned to look at Miles, who sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"Dunno man, we all split up." Horace blinked at him and nodded.

"Right! O-okay. Well, we'd better keep going." They all turned to look as Pierre caught up with them. Horace perked up and moved to tail behind the scientist, trying to get his attention.

"Pierre!—"

Miles shrank back with a glare as Pierre's long shadow fell over the both of them, watching him and Horace follow the FBI party. James' gaze lingered on Miles' face. _I wouldn't blame him for not liking him, but he's got to have at least a little respect for his old man._ Then again, he didn't know anything about Miles' relationship with his father. And of course, Pierre was rather sour. James couldn't imagine spending any time around him.

"Let's go, man." Miles slunk back toward the retreating party, "The sooner we get this over with, the better."

"Agreed."

James shoved his hands in his jumpsuit pocket. Despite the broiling heat, his fingertips felt cold and numb. They were on the opposite side of the fence from where the _situation_ was occurring, sure. But would the party want to tour the whole perimeter? He silently hoped they wouldn't. Though, truth be told, he was more apprehensive about meeting Juliet again rather than Dharma getting in trouble. Much to Miles' relief, it seemed, Pierre had abandoned the party in favor of what he termed 'important business'.

Shifting his weight from foot to foot in the long grass to stave off the pins and needles, James watched the lead of the party adjust her dark shades as she peered past the fence. Roxie still wound nervously around Arlo's legs, trying to keep a safe distance from Miles, who looked far from a ray of sunshine at the moment.

"You have a truce with them?" The unnamed FBI agent lit another cigarette, keeping an eye on Horace, who stood next to one of the rusted pylons.

"Yes! We have a very good relationship with them," Horace explained proudly, gesturing with a wave of his hand to the jungle treeline on the other side. "We have a monthly Truce meeting. Everything goes very well!"

James sniffed, but said nothing. He kept himself occupied toeing at the imprint of a large pawprint in the dusty soil. He thought back to when he was still at the beach camp, and Kate helped him track down that boar. As stupid of a venture as it was, he couldn't help but think of it fondly. One of few good memories on the island.

Roxie perked up; eyes locked on the treeline past the fence. For a moment, James' heart jumped in his chest. He hadn't even though about the Hostiles, he was far too occupied worrying about other things.

"Do they come across the fence often? Do you have physical contact with them?"

Horace frowned. "Um, no I'd say—We keep to our separate sides of the fence. We don't mess with them and they don't mess with us." He craned his neck to glance at the clipboard on which his answers were being recorded, before it was snatched out of view.

James kept a nervous eye on Roxie, who continued staring beyond the fence. Miles was staying a good distance away from her, why was she acting so strange?

Suddenly, a bark echoed from the depths of the treeline on the other side of the fence. All heads turned to face the jungle. Roxie's ears perked as she stood at attention.

It wasn't a howl or any kind of wild-dog sound, more like the bark of a domesticated dog. It reminded James of waking up early in the morning to the sound of Vincent barking at the crabs that would scour the less-populated ends of the beach camp.

The familiar 'woof' echoed once more from the shifting shadows of the jungle. This time, Roxie tipped her head to one side and, after a moment of consideration, returned with her own bark.

Arlo frowned. "What's the wildlife situation like here?" 

"There's tigers!" Horace pointed out, before quickly adding, "N-not in the Barracks, of course—just on the island in general."

"He's asking about other dogs." Miles sniffed, moving to keep James between him and Roxie.

"Oh. I don't know. Maybe wild dogs."

"Wild dogs don't sound like that," James finally spoke up. Something familiar tugged at the back of his mind as Roxie and the mystery animal on the other side of the fence exchanged another mutual bark.

"Do your natives have any animals they keep?" Asked the unnamed party lead, reaching up to shield her cigarette from a hot breeze coming from across the fence.

"I don't think so." James was taken out of the conversation by Miles sharply jabbing him with an elbow. He turned to say something, only to see him frantically motioning to the bushes across the pylons. Following Miles' gaze, he spotted a flash of tawny yellow fur darting between some ferns.

"That your dog?" He hissed.

_Vincent._ If the dog recognized him and acted friendly toward him, that could be a problem. They never mentioned having a dog with them. That, and he still had a collar with a name and phone number on it.

Luckily, Arlo was sheepishly tugging the sniffer dog back away from the fence. "She's carrying puppies, 's what it is," He explained, his overgrown fringe falling into his face, "'s why she's acting so weird."

James breathed a sigh of relief as the inattentive FBI party lead spun on her heels and started heading back toward their van.

The day was going by surprisingly fast, and not many things had gone wrong today. Not including the incident this morning, of course. He bit his lip, wondering if Juliet was able to handle this by herself. Not that Diana seemed keen on letting anyone else help.

Guilt deepened the pit in his stomach. Now that they were all stuck together, he could see exactly why she'd be upset. Of course, they pushed her off like she was still, well, an Other. Not that he was quick to forget getting tazed, but she seemed as much a prisoner as they were.

She was so eager to leave, and he couldn't blame her, but truth was he didn't think he could get through this without her. As strange as it sounded, they weren't strangers now. If they were before, now they were a team, at least in Dharma's eyes. They might as well act like it.

A barbet skirted around the rising embers from the small fire, riding the hot, humid breeze into a small patch of grass, rooting for twigs. Juliet stared into the dancing flames. Most of her memories of fires weren't very pleasant. Her first funeral with the Others, listening to several of them fighting with each other, Ethan staring at her from the other side of the fire after his wife's death. She had to admit, though, it was a comfort. She felt uncomfortable sleeping in a house, if it was up to her she would have slept in the backyard of their house. It felt more familiar to her.

Her gaze flickered upward as she saw Diana sit down opposite to her. Throughout the ordeal she was surprisingly calm, if a little distant. She had her gaze turned toward the night sky. Shivering, Juliet glanced down at her own hands. She'd cleaned them off to the best of her ability, but no amount of scrubbing could get rid of the feeling.

Whatever had caused the pregnancy problems hadn't happened yet, or they were in some kind of place on the island where they weren't affecting anything. Not that it was any less stressful of an experience, but nobody had died today. Not yet, anyways.

"The stars are out tonight, yes?" Diana's firm voice came to her as if she were underwater, or at the end of a long tunnel. She blinked, broken out of her thoughts. Following her gaze, she glanced up at the cloudless night sky.

"They've moved again," Diana continued, "We must go north now," She motioned toward an arrow-shaped formation almost directly above them.

Juliet had always been mystified by all aspects of the island, but the stars were the strangest to her. She couldn't spot any familiar formations, like it was a completely different sky. Everyone else seemed to have them memorized and would use them to navigate; everyone except her, at least.

"Did the stars lead you here?" She asked quietly, studying the sky. It looked different than it did in present-day.

"This clearing is very kind to pregnant or laboring women," Diana explained, stoking the fire, "It has been the place to birth for a very long time. But we haven't been here recently until today."

Juliet couldn't help but be intrigued. "Are you able to give birth in other places? Is it dangerous to?"

"No, it is simply tradition," the firelight reflected in her dark eyes, "You have your own traditions, don't you?"

The answer perched on the tip of her tongue. All the Others' strange rituals, their funerals, their Jacob—but they weren't hers, not really. They never were. Nor was the community of the survivor's beach camp, or the friendly atmosphere of the Barracks, she realized.

"I don't know," she glanced down at her hands.

"Tell me, Juliet," this was the first time since they had been introduced that Diana had said her name, "You don't live here, with the Americans, do you?" Her question wasn't accusatory, but Juliet couldn't help feel a jolt in her chest at the prospect of being found out. She dipped her head.

"I don't understand,"

"You seem out of place here," She blinked slowly, turning her gaze toward the interior of the Barracks.

The trees were thick enough to conceal the glittering lights nestled in the valley, but Juliet could see a faint glow coming off the treetops and reaching into the night sky.

Juliet blinked. She wasn't wrong.

"You are not like the others here… Where do you come from?"

"Somewhere else," was the best response she could give.

Diana nodded. "These Americans are not your people."

"No, they're not," It was an easy enough response to give. _He walks amongst us, but he is not one of us._ Even if she was to stay in her little yellow house for the rest of her life, she would never find solace in the sterile, family-friendly Dharma atmosphere. It wasn't something she felt like she could ever understand or deserve.

"Are you alone, then?"

"It's complicated."

Again, she nodded understandingly. Juliet stared at her hands. The Others prided themselves on being private and cryptic, something she could never understand. Her secretive nature was something curated out of fear and trauma, not an aspect to be celebrated. The problem was now she couldn't even tell what the right answer was.

Diana had turned her gaze toward the jungle on the other side of the pylons. "We follow the stars," she explained, "But mostly, we travel alone. Following rivers and flats, alone. I never understand those who stay in one place for a long time, it's not natural, I don't think." 

Juliet sighed. She wasn't a nomad by any means, but she sure felt restless. She didn't feel a sense of belonging _anywhere_, but especially not in the tidy, Pleasantville-esque neighborhood. Everything just felt like another assignment to her. Even taking care of Daniel.

"Do you wander, Juliet?"

She paused, taking some time to carefully consider her answer. "No. No I don't."

"Would you like to?" Diana tipped her head to one side.

"Excuse me?" Juliet lifted her gaze, dumbfounded.

"It's far more peaceful than the life the Americans live. You seem knowledgeable enough, yes?"

"Well, I don't know about _knowledgeable…_" She knew enough to keep herself alive, but for the Others that was the bare minimum. But she arrived expecting a civilized community, jungle survival wasn't a top priority. Even know she knew far less than what the Others would consider adequate.

"Are you offering?" She asked after a moment of consideration.

Diana blinked slowly. "Only if you'd like. Eliana will stay with me until she is able to take care of her child on her own. Then we will part ways."

Juliet frowned. She hadn't expected any kind of offer like this. She wasn't even sure what to say. Sure, she didn't belong to Horace's posse of suburbanites, but she didn't really belong anywhere on the island. Her whole goal was to leave—but what exactly was there to go back to? Something about the trim, neat yellow houses made her insanely uncomfortable, and she did miss sleeping under the stars…

"It's your choice, but I'm sure your people will be back to collect you eventually."

Before Diana could continue, Juliet's head perked at the sound of something rustling back in the bushes. She stood up, eyes quickly adjusting from the firelight to the dim moonlight casting an eerie glow onto the ferns. If it was anyone she knew, she would have heard the van coming, but this sounded like someone—or some _thing_—on foot.

Juliet stared into the blackness, stiff and alert. The footsteps sounded human as best she could hear. Danger flashed in the back of her mind. Who could it be? Had someone else found them?

The familiar sound of metal on metal—the cock of a gun, she realized—came from the bushes, accompanied by a glint of steel in the shadows.

_I think it's all stupid. What's the point of coming to an island if you're just going to build a suburb on it? _Miles glared into the shadowy foliage through the van window. Most Dharma vans only had a front and passenger seat, with the back open to carrying cargo. This was one of the few vans that had another row of seating in the back, where Miles had unceremoniously been placed.

As reluctant as he was, Ford was the star of the show. Maybe it was his tough cowboy act, but Horace had taken a liking to him. Miles was neutral. He was tolerable, but as was customary for him, he had a habit of nipping any relationships in the bud before they started. That was before the boat, of course.

He hated to admit how worried he was about Daniel, even just to himself. He was capable, yeah, but he just came down with time-travel flu or whatever else he had. Besides, he was in a completely different place now. Even if they had been placed in a time where cell phones were in use, it's not like they would call off-island.

Miles watched the beads of condensation on the inside and outside of the van windows puddle up into droplets and then race down the windowpane.

And sure, maybe sleeping on a porch swing was better than sleeping on the ground next to a hill of bullet ants, but everything about this place creeped him out. Maybe it was being around dead people before they died—or dead people after they died, for that matter. Or how… normal and Americanized everything looked from the inside, it gave him whiplash.

He didn't really blame Juliet for being pissed when she was shoveled out there to deal with the first unknown party they saw. Treated like an outsider, or something like that. Ford—_Lafleur_, he corrected himself—seemed eager to go and get her though. She did know what she was doing, but something didn't sit right with Miles about leaving her out there by herself. He hated to admit he was attached, though. As distant as she was, it seemed like she was keeping the whole schtick together.

Then again, would her going out there throw a wrench in their whole plan? She never mentioned being a doctor, but as far as Miles knew she would have applied for the position anyways. She didn't want to be security, after all. And she didn't strike Miles as the housewife type. He snickered at the thought of her sitting around folding laundry or doing dishes. None of them were the suburb type, not really. It was humorous how quickly Horace had assimilated them into their little group, despite how out of place they seemed. Though seeing how many people actually lived in the Barracks, it would be easy to get lost in the crowd.

"…Oh, and maybe tomorrow you can go out looking for the rest of your crew. Any idea where they might have landed?" Miles picked up some of Horace's babbling. He was friendly, if not overbearing. Seemed like something straight out of the Twilight Zone, how stereotypically cheesy and corny this whole place and everyone in it was.

LaFleur sighed and glanced out the window. "Don't know, I'd say we keep in the Truce border for now, don't want to stir up any more trouble."

Yeah, that was the last thing they needed. But it seemed like their presence alone was enough to cause chaos. Maybe they were bad luck.

"Right! We can go and see if… If Juliet's okay." Horace paused, as if waiting for him to say something. "You two are together, right?" Miles rolled his eyes so hard it hurt.

It took a split-second moment of sputtering before James could respond. "Nah. Just teammates."

"Oh." Horace blinked, oblivious as ever. "I thought… Y'know, you two were an item! I didn't know she was a doctor." He changed gears quickly presumably after seeing LaFleur's expression.

"She's not," Miles piped up from the back, "She just has some medical training." James jolted as if he forgot Miles was still there. He didn't know what possessed him to cover for her like that, it wasn't like he even knew she wouldn't want people to know. But she seemed so uncomfortable, he could tell something was up.

_I shouldn't even really care this much._ It's just to keep himself safe and protected, he reasoned.

James shifted in the passenger seat. "'s a boat, we had to have the bare minimum knowledge." He agreed. Miles felt strange how easily he accepted his addition, it felt more like this whole plan was his creation.

"Oh. Right, I guess being on a ship and all you'd best be prepared." Horace continued, "You know some of the kids already heard; they're calling you pirates now! Isn't that funny? You don't seem like the pirate type…"

Miles shifted uncomfortably in the seat. Dharma's fearless leader indeed. The van began slowing, before sputtering to a stop.

"Best to go in further on foot."

"You think she's still going to be there?" Horace asked, sliding out of the van. "I mean, what if they took her?"

"She wouldn't let 'em." James sniffed. He and Miles exchanged a glance. _Or if she left on her own._

Uneasily, Miles picked his way further into the jungle. He hated being out here in general, but especially at night. He paused, sighting a snapped branch alongside the path they were making.

"That wasn't here before, was it?"

James turned to look over his shoulder at it, frowning. "We didn't come this way before. Nobody did."

"_Somebody_ must've, the branch is too high to be broken by an animal." That was about the extent of his outdoorsy knowledge.

"Uhm—" Before Horace could continue, the sounds of a scuffle came from the fence. James was the first to take off in the direction of the noise.

"Juliet!—" 

Miles was quick on his heels, both of them easily outrunning Horace, even in their jumpsuits. Branches whipped by his face and slashed at his calves as he ran through the undergrowth, pounding toward the distant glint of firelight.

Suddenly, he crashed right into James, who had halted right at the treeline. Dazed, Miles collected himself and turned to see Phil, writhing on the ground with his hands behind his back, Juliet pinning him with a boot between the shoulder blades and holding his rifle. She glanced up casually.

"James?"

Phil bucked in a useless attempt to free himself. "_Help me!_ She tried to kill me! I was—" Juliet let up on his shoulders, letting him scramble away. She dropped his rifle and locked eyes with LaFleur.

"Come to rescue me?" The surprise dropped from her eyes. Her lips turned up in a slight smile. James froze in place, then began rubbing the back of his neck.

Horace, panting, burst through the undergrowth. "What happened?"

James and Juliet shared a long glance. She nodded back across the lit fire. "It's a boy."

"They're fine, then?" He asked quietly. She nodded.

"Everyone's fine."

"_I'm _not fine!" Phil was dusting himself off and frowning.

"This isn't about you." Miles snapped, turning back to the rest of his 'team.'

"So, I guess you two are back together then?" James gave him a look.

Horace bounded up to the three of them, glancing nervously at where Diana was sitting, watching.

"So… everyone's okay? You're okay?"

"I'm fine, Horace."

"Right!..." He nervously rubbed the back to his neck, taking a step away from Diana's scrutinizing gaze. "You, uh, you did really good!" He continued, beaming. Juliet managed a smile, but Miles could tell it wasn't fully genuine.

"Thank you."

"Uhm… If it's okay with you—since they've taken a liking to you and all—maybe you could help me… negotiate their stay with them?"

"Your job's never over, it seems." James quipped. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She didn't make any move to remove it.

"A blessing and a curse."

For a small neighborhood, the residents of the Barracks were very resourceful. Though the cafeteria was open pretty much all hours of the day, James suggested they checked out "a lesser known place," he had said as if he were a native to the neighborhood. Though, it wasn't hard to catch the small line of people coming out of the door of the house a block down from theirs. As many surprises the Barracks had, a home-based breakfast joint wasn't one Juliet had expected.

Though far from a certified establishment, the house was nothing if not cozy. Rather than the cafeteria's industrial picnic tables, the diner's apparent owner—a woman named Belinda and her two daughters—had asked other residents for unused tables and chairs, which were strewn about the several rooms that would have been bedrooms and studies. The open-air kitchen that resided in most Dharma houses was being used as a center of operations.

Though Juliet had to admit it was strange eating in someone else's house—especially when the provided tables and chairs sat upon shag carpet rather than hard floors—it reminded her of when she was younger, living in Miami, and her sister would drag her to lesser-known places she found. The memory seemed so far away now.

"I got us the most luxurious seat in the house," Quipped James, winking as he sat down across from her in their window seat. Juliet hummed, able to return with a polite smile.

He leaned forward with his elbows on the table, reaching for the coffee they had been given. She watched him, his rough, calloused palms wrapping around the cheap ceramic.

Juliet turned to face the window. The blinds had been removed, leaving only the iron security bars over the outside to obscure their view of the sunlit sidewalk. Her gaze slid to her untouched meal of home-cooked eggs and bacon.

She quietly held her breath. For a moment she had expected to be sitting in the Others' makeshift tent camp, having been begrudgingly given her ration of boar and mango. Eliana's screams and the baby's cries rang in her ears.

"I gotta say somethin'," James started gruffly.

"It's a boy." He blinked at her for a moment, before relenting with a smirk.

"I mean," he took a deep breath in and turned his gaze away, staring idly at the couple sitting in chairs nearby.

"I jus' wanted to say I'm sorry for draggin' you out there like a call-girl," She blinked at him, surprised. "I didn't really know what else 'ta do." His gaze slid back up to meet hers, sporting that winning smolder.

She froze, like a deer in the headlights. She wasn't used to people apologizing to her, it's been over three years. She took in a deep breath, studying his face, before letting it out smoothly. "Thank you," she accepted.

"Didn't peg me as the type to say sorry?" He idly moved his eggs around on their plate, still trying to catch her eye. She turned to gaze out of the window, half-blinded by the golden sunlight.

"No," she sighed out. _The problem isn't you, it's me._ "Thank you, it means a lot to me." It was true. She wished she could just blurt out that she didn't know how to accept it, that she wasn't used to it. That she didn't peg herself as the type to be apologized to. But it felt like there was some kind of wall separating them, forcing them further apart. Her heart ached; her courage was yet another thing that had been taken from her.

He raised his brows and tipped his head to her, following her unseeing gaze outside.

She should have given him more of a reaction, she thinks. After everything he's been through and how much he's grown. _I only know how much he's grown because I read his file and watched him on the beach. Like we all did, _she reminded herself. The divide grew further.

"Can I ask you something, James?"

"Anything you wish, sunshine."

"Are you scared of me?" Her voice was quieter than she intended, as if subconsciously making an attempt to seem less intimidating.

James blinked at her, taken aback for a split second. For a heartbeat she felt like a deer in the headlights, holding his gaze with her own. However, as James usually did, he recovered smoothly.

"Should I be?" His tone was joking. After a few minutes with no response other than an earnest stare, he heaved a sigh and tipped his head thoughtfully.

"Look, you and I ain't that different. I ain't sayin' this just to make you feel better, I think it's true. We both done things we regret, right? You know mine; I know some of yours–I think if anything, you've got more right to be redeemed than I do. The things you did, you were bein' forced to. I chose to do the stuff I did." _That isn't true, _she wanted to say. He was being too easy on her.

"Am I scared of you? No, I ain't," His words were thick and gravelly, she could feel their heavy weight in the air. "Not like I'm scared of myself, no." Their eyes met again.

"But did you kick my ass on the Hydra? Yeah, you did." He flashed one of those charming, dimpled smiles. She couldn't help but return it, not just to ease the tension.

"Sorry for kicking your ass, James."

He hummed thoughtfully. "I'll accept 'yer apology—on one condition."

"Oh?" She poked at the now cold bacon on her plate, unable to help giving her own goofy smile.

"Teach me how 'ta kick ass like that." Their eyes met for a quick moment. They both started laughing.

"Of course, I'll try my best."


	4. Chapter 4

Icy pink and sherbet orange light caught in the beads of dew clinging to the long grass. The Outlands stretched toward the horizon, the grass undulating and waving in the soft breeze. Hot, thick humidity pervaded the air, and a soft blanket of fog flowed through the valleys and crept up from the ground in wispy tendrils.

Miles squinted in the bright rays of sunlight pouring from the rising sun, which began to peek up over the horizon. He could see a dark, smudged line where the land met the sky, and knew it was the treeline on the far side of the Barracks. Wiping sweat from his brow, he began making his way through the grass, feeling drops of dew soaking into the pants of his khaki jumpsuit. Why the Dharma folk had chosen for their people to wear thick, long-sleeved jumpsuits in the middle of a tropical island was beyond him.

An 'I'iwi bird chirped from somewhere behind him, no doubt scanning the sidewalks for any food scraps. He'd made his way across the first rolling hill of the Outlands before he heard quiet footsteps behind him; the rest of his friends, he knew. Except for Juliet, she always walked silently.

Glad to finally get away from the singsong, cheesy suburban atmosphere of the Barracks, he began hiking up the other end of the hill. Miles would rather not be here at all, if he had the choice, but it was hard choosing between Horace and his posse and sleeping on the jungle floor using a rock as a pillow. _Stuck between a rock and a hard place, _he sniffed.

Glancing up at the cloudless sky, he wondered idly how long it would take before his desire to find air conditioning would trump his distaste for the residents of the Barracks. At the very least, they'd be under the jungle canopy for most of the—

"Miles, stop!" He didn't know why he obeyed, but he did. One foot frozen in the air, he felt Juliet coming up behind him in that silent, clean way of hers, easily cutting through the long grass with purposeful strides.

In a second, she was behind him, gently pulling him back by the arm. "Don't step any further." Bewildered, Miles searched the ground below him for whatever snake or hole Juliet had not wanted him stepping on. For a moment, though, he couldn't see anything, just the glittering shine of the dew.

"What—"

"Move back," she ordered calmly. He did as she said, watching as she took his place and dropped into a crouch. Brushing aside some blades of grass, she motioned to something laying hidden in their midst.

He could hear James' heavy footsteps coming up from behind them, loud and sloppy compared to Juliet's. Jin followed, a little more cautiously.

"Snake?" He motioned to where Juliet was crouched next to Miles, slowing as he scanned the group concernedly. James had shoved his hands in his pockets and ambled up to investigate.

"Look, there," Miles frowned and craned his neck to see what she was pointing at. Just glittering dewdrops picking up the sunlight, until he looked closer. The reflected sunlight took the form of a circle, laying in the grass. Miles sat down on his haunches to inspect it.

"It's… a circle of wire." He observed, wondering how Juliet had seen it from so far away. She reached behind her and began combing through the grass as if looking for something. Jin, upon seeing her, picked up a stick from the ground and handed it to her.

"You sure poking things on the jungle floor is a good idea, Wonder Woman?" James remarked, though he seemed as confused as Miles.

Gently, Juliet poked one half of the stick in the middle of the wire circle. _Snap!_ Miles jumped back, startled, as the wire suddenly drew up and around the stick, cutting it cleanly in half with a resounding crack. The cut half of the stick dropped onto the ground, and the wire had curled up on itself into a knot.

"It's a snare," she observed, reaching down to follow the wire with her hands until she struck something in the grass. She pulled the mystery object from the ground and held it to where the rest of the group could see. It was a big nail, Miles observed, bigger than her hand.

"A railroad spike?" James observed, holding out his hand. Juliet passed it to him. Sure enough, the other end of the wire was pulled tightly around the large, metal shank. "Left over from the Dharma Mountain Railroad, I'm assumin'."

"Snare. For rabbits?" James passed the spike to Jin, who turned it over in his hands before holding it up to the sunlight.

"I suppose so, there are rabbits here," Juliet agreed, standing up and wiping dewdrops off her hands on her jeans.

"Who the hell is catching rabbits?" Miles asked, standing up as well. They had Dharma-brand mac and cheese, who the hell needed to hunt for rabbits.

Another set of footsteps came from behind them, followed by the sounds of someone tripping and falling into the grass.

"You're not supposed to go that far without me!" Phil's shrill voice broke through the hot air, scaring away several nearby birds.

"Good morning, Phil." Juliet blinked at him. He blinked back at her, then turned his attention to James.

"I thought I told you to wait for me!" The lanky security officer had to crane his neck to look up at James. Miles resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Juliet moved to stand beside James. "If we wanted to leave without you, we would be long gone by now." She stated in that cool, calm way of hers. Phil bristled, but said nothing, instead shrinking away from Juliet.

"Let's go, then," he sniffed, quickly brushing past her and stomping toward the treeline.

"In case you forgot, we're looking for _our_ team, so _we're_ leading the way." Miles called after him. He didn't even notice he'd said 'our' team without even thinking about it.

"I know this jungle better than any of you do!" Phil puffed out his chest proudly. Juliet fell into step beside James.

"That's a good point," she said quietly, trying to catch his eye. They shared a glance for a moment. It kind of was a good point, Miles admitted begrudgingly; they couldn't let it be known that they've been here before. Leave it to James and Juliet, he supposed. They were the two professional liars out of their group.

James picked up his speed to fall in behind Phil. "If you know where we're goin' so well, why don't you just take us back to where we wrecked?" Juliet seemed thankful for his quick cover.

If Miles was sure of anything, he knew it was going to be a long day.

"We need to get to higher ground in order to see where we are in relation to the shoreline. Phil, do you have a compass with you?" Juliet craned her neck and squinted against the beams of sunlight breaking through the jungle canopy.

"Hah! Do you _know_ how far inland we are? You couldn't see the shoreline even if you climbed the tallest tree here!" Phil puffed out his chest.

Miles sniffed, continuing to linger in the shadows a ways away from the group. He was, for once, glad he wasn't in charge; he would have kicked Phil to the curb by now. He couldn't stand the guy, strutting around like he had explored the island from top-to-bottom.

James moved in a little closer to Juliet, keeping a concerned eye on Phil. "We can't act too stupid," he murmured.

Juliet nodded in agreement. "We should know enough to prove we trekked from the crash site, but not any more than that." Crafting a lie seemed to come easy to her. They continued talking with their heads close together. A strange couple, they were.

Jin stood close to them as well, as bemused by Phil as they were. He continued shifting impatiently on his feet, waiting for them to get a move on. Miles wondered, for a moment, what it would feel like to have someone waiting for him on the other side.

As best Miles could assume, they were deep in the lush valley that nestled between the Island's two mountains. It was much hillier than near the beach. As they spoke, they stood at the base of a steep hill. The dirt slope was broken by roots weaving in and out of the ground, providing trips and footholds, and rocks jutting out where the slope was steep enough to form small rock faces. They weren't fully in the dark wilds of the jungle yet; the area where the Barracks was situated held a small area of tame, temperate forest before transitioning to more exotic flora.

Though the canopy overhead provided shade, heat seemed to seep up from the loamy soil on the forest floor. Shifting uncomfortably, Miles amused himself by watching Phil try (and fail) to climb the nearest rock face. He didn't really fancy spending a whole day out here, tromping around in the jungle, looking for people he didn't really care about. Dan was at the dock, Charlotte was gone, and—

His eyes settled on Juliet, still in close conversation with James. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but she was gesturing toward the canopy. Strange couple, they were. Last Miles heard, he shipped her off to help some pregnant woman at the fence and then they had a fight about it. Or at least, that's what he thought happened. Didn't really matter now, though. They seemed like they were getting along just fine.

Juliet nodded as she talked, blinking in that slow, calm way of hers. Miles heaved a sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets. He had to admit, he would feel better with her around, whether they were in that stupid house or not. And sure, he should probably be out here to make sure Ford didn't do anything stupid. And to make sure Phil didn't get at Jin or something. Yeah, actually, maybe he did have a reason to be out here after all.

"Miles, what do you think?" Her question caught him off guard. He turned to find their group's leading power couple staring at him expectantly.

"Are you two done flirting?" He threw a glance over at Phil, occupying himself with something a few feet away, then lowered his voice. "I don't know anything about this place, I'm the last person you want—"

"That's why we're askin' you." James drawled, digging the toe of his boot into the dirt. Miles tried to see whether or not he was flushing at the flirting comment.

Juliet nodded. "You've been here less time than either of us, it wouldn't make sense for us to know as much as we do about the island since we just crashed here." Ah, right, the rules of the great con. He didn't care so much about the morality of lying to a bunch of hippies, just as long as he didn't have to put in the work. Just going along with what everyone else said was good enough for him.

Miles sniffed, irritated. "I don't even know where the location of our boat is supposed to be, that's your job to keep track of."

"And suppose 'yer cornered and have to keep the story goin' by yourself?" For a brief moment everyone was quiet, and Miles was given the choice whether or not to push the issue. Ford was obviously not enjoying being around first-time liars, he could see. And Miles was in a bad mood.

You know what? He should push the issue actually.

"That's not my problem," for a heartbeat he had another silence, a choice whether to end it there or keep going, but he couldn't really stop himself once he started, "And you know what, we really didn't have to do any of this. You're pushing the responsibility of keeping all of you safe on me, I didn't _ask_ for that,"

"_Miles—"_ Juliet attempted to cut in, but James stepped between them.

"_Well, _I'm sorry that keepin' us all alive is such a burden, I should'a asked 'yer permission first,"

"Yeah, you should have said something before lumping me and Dan with all of you, don't push this on me like I agreed to it," Miles realized he may have raised his voice a bit too much; he saw that Phil had turned around to gawk at them.

"What? Something you wanna say?" Phil glared at him and straightened up, his too-large jumpsuit and all the bells and whistles attached clattered as he adjusted himself.

"Uh, _yeah_, if you're gonna argue maybe _I_ should take the lead." For a guy of his build he seemed to have no problem puffing up in front of LaFleur, but when Juliet turned her eyes on him, he couldn't help but shrink back.

"Oh, the great and powerful Phil will take us back to our boat with his jungle prowess. While we're at it, why don't you just find a way to get back to the mainland?" James towered over him, as much in the mood as Miles was to deal with this.

Miles resisted the urge to shove him. "Well, if you know so much, be our guest. We don't usually ask each other before we make decisions anyways."

"LaFleur's the boat captain, right? He'll tell us what to do." He deflected, shifting uncomfortably under Juliet's eyes.

Finally, Juliet cut between Phil and Miles, lowering her voice so only the latter could hear. "Miles," she ordered, her voice now far more serious, threatening to break her usual calm demeanor, "If you want to go back you can. This is about keeping us all safe."

He bristled, "Right, of course, keeping us all safe," he could feel his anger dying down now, the flame snuffed into embers as he realized everyone was looking at him. James was staring a hole through the back of his head, he could feel, and he decided it best to shrink back.

Juliet frowned, moving up a hand to rest it wearily on her forehead. James moved to place a hand on her shoulder. She tensed immediately but didn't remove it.

"'Aight, we can head southeast of here. We'll head for the mountains until we hit the Truce border, then take a break and reroute." Miles could tell he was trying to inch closer to the Orchid, one of the few plans he had. He stifled the urge to roll his eyes.

Juliet smiled gently and nodded, "Yes, I think that would be good." She blinked a silent thank you to James. With that, she trailed after him as he started hiking up the nearby slope, using rocks and roots as footholds. Despite his confidence, he slipped and scuffed himself several times, while Juliet was able to quickly pass him and swiftly scale it, helping him up from the top. Jin had followed wordlessly, but Miles felt him throw a glance his way.

That left him and Phil to bring up the caboose. Nobody had to tell Miles twice to start moving, instantly shouldering past the lanky Phil and heading for the roots. He suppressed a groan, hearing the great and powerful security officer behind him struggling uselessly to hike up after him. Miles clawed his way up and moved to stand behind Juliet, silently hoping they wouldn't notice Phil was having trouble and would leave him. Juliet, however, moved to offer her hand to the struggling Phil. He looked at it suspiciously, then ignored it and opted to claw his way clumsily up to join the group.

And southeast they went, just as the Boat Captain had said. Juliet and James lead the way, side-by-side. Miles sniffed, finding it how strange they were getting along. Juliet, obviously the more adept one at moving in the jungle, would strike out a few steps ahead in trickier areas, her prowess easy to see. James fumbled along behind her, looking clumsy in comparison. After them Jin trailed quietly, lost in thought as he usually was. Miles would have felt bad for him if he hadn't been mourning his pride. And of course, Phil trailed behind him, dutifully looking over the group. His eyes were on Juliet more often than not, no doubt picking up on how easily she moved through the wilds.

After scaling a few more hills with the help of rocks and roots as footholds, they hiked through an almost temperate-looking area, apart from the banyans and hanging moss it didn't look as tropical as the rest of the woods. Juliet had instantly picked up on a deer trail as they hit a plateau and wasted no time guiding everyone through. She looked as happy as Miles was to be out of that cramped, cheesy neighborhood.

They walked for a while in blessed silence, but the whole time Miles still felt himself steaming, and not just from the heat. Juliet was great, sure, but she and James had this whole leader thing going on that rubbed him the wrong way. _As if they weren't just at each other's throats a few weeks ago_. And if there was one thing Miles hated, it was being bossed around. James was just bossy, but Juliet, on the other hand, had this condescending way to her, as if trying to care for him. Maybe she was feigning it to gain his trust, maybe she wasn't, but Miles didn't like it either way. He could take care of himself, _and_ he could take care of Dan just fine on his own.

Yeah, he especially didn't like Juliet going so quickly to baby Dan. It wasn't so much that he didn't trust her, but that she took the role so quickly. He could have taken care of himself, and Juliet inserting herself into things was probably what convinced him to leave on the sub. _If something happens to him out there on the mainland–_

Miles was lucky to catch himself just a few inches from the ground, stumbling after his foot caught on something that felt suspiciously like Phil's boot. The security officer wound around him without so much as looking at him, chin up in that prissy, self-important way of his. Miles stood and dusted himself off; the last thing he needed was Juliet to come back there and see if he was okay or something.

And of _course_, he couldn't forget the colorful cast of Dharma residents. Even if he did get the pass to go back to his nice, air-conditioned kitchen full of mac and cheese, he'd have to pass through the welcome wagon to get there. There were Horace and Amy, a regular Adam and Barbara Maitland who were about as dimensional as a piece of paper. And that guy Lyle, who was too friendly for his own good. Jerry was fine, if not lazy, but he hung around with Phil and Horace all the time. Then there was Roger, a _real_ winner who was always looking for some reason to hurt someone. And, of course, Miles' own damn parents—how could he forget them?

The sweltering head did his mood no good, and before he knew it Miles was trailing as far behind the group as he could, just barely close enough to keep sight of them to keep from getting lost. And what would they care if he got lost? The thought of Juliet bustling around trying to find him and acting all concerned was enough to make him want to throw up. He didn't _need_ pity, he wanted to go home. Well, more accurately he wanted Dan to be there. And Charlotte. And Naomi.

The group continued on in no hurry whatsoever; it was obvious Juliet was slowing to allow Phil to keep up. They had followed the aforementioned deer trail around the edges of some slopes, where instead of a slant downward there were mildly steep drops down to the leaf litter below, around 5 or 6 feet. Juliet reached some kind of fork in the path and moved to talk to James. After a very obviously titillating conversation, James rubbed the back of his neck and moved forward to test a risky-looking path right along the edge of a rock wall.

The path itself was made of packed dirt with only a few potential trips here and there, but on the right side there was a lining of scrubby wild grass, which spilled out over a rock face that led quite a ways downward into a kudzu-swathed hollow. The other side of the path nestled up against another rock wall, moist with condensation and crisscrossed with vines and moss. The path itself was narrow, but enough to walk single file through.

"Someone want to tell me why we're doing a tightrope walk instead of walking on the roadside like normal people?" Miles called up to the front of the group, now catching up to where Jin was cautiously watching James and Juliet start out onto the path.

"None of the roads lead directly southeast," Juliet explained, before suddenly catching herself. "At least, I assume so." Phil narrowed his eyes suspiciously but said nothing.

Jin had stepped onto the path, obviously content to follow James and Juliet. Miles paused at the edge of the path.

"You first," he motioned to Mr. Know-it-all, who hovered cautiously behind him.

"Nuh-uh! I'm not gonna fall into a trap that easy." Phil adjusted his jumpsuit nervously.

"Scared to walk on a little jungle trail?" Miles let his taunt sink in for a moment, before shrugging nonchalantly and following Jin. He sped up in order to keep a good distance from Phil. He himself wasn't afraid of the mild drop, but he'd rather not be tripped and made to look like an idiot. The path curved around the rock wall and out of sight, the turn catching Miles off-guard. He uneasily followed it around, relieved to see solid ground just a few feet away.

Suddenly, a bony palm slammed into the small of his back, knocking him almost all the way off the path. For a heartbeat his legs dangled over empty air, but he was lucky enough to grab an exposed root on the way down, digging the toes of his boots into cracks in the rock face along the drop. As expected, Juliet started and turned to help him up, but Jin reached for him before she could. Miles gladly accepted his hand, turning to give the innocent-looking Phil the best glare he could muster.

"What are you, 12? What's your problem?"

"What, me? I didn't do anything! Why are you yelling at me?" Phil snapped defensively.

"Can we have this argument somewhere safer?" Juliet raised her voice over the two of them as Jin started nudging Miles to the other side of the path. Phil stalked a few steps after him.

"You people sure are _hostile_ toward me for no damn reason, I'm just out here trying to keep you guys _safe!" _

Jin suddenly grabbed Phil by the arm, hauling both men onto solid ground and away from the looming drop. Miles could almost feel Juliet's relief. It pissed him off, whether or not her care was genuine he didn't _need_ it. Finally away from the precipice, Miles wasted no time in backing up from everyone.

"Oh, real subtle. If you think we're Hostiles it would be kinda stupid to come out here all alone with us, right?" He spun on his feet, going from facing the group to stalking away from them and talking over his shoulder.

"Horace might trust you, but I don't. You're gonna need to prove you can be trusted." His shrill voice was nails on a chalkboard to Miles. He opened his mouth to snap back as he continued heading away.

"Miles, watch where you're walking," Oh yeah, he really needed to be condescended, that's _exactly_ what he needed.

"For that matter I think it's stupid for any of us to be out here at all," he called over his shoulder, "I'm going back, and _none _of you are going to stop me. In fact, I think—"

Suddenly, he was suspended in dead air, it took a heartbeat for him to even realize he was falling as he felt the jolt in his stomach, like going down a hill on a rollercoaster. It was so sudden he couldn't even shout, one moment he was walking on solid ground and the next he was dropping past the jungle floor. The last thing he was able to glimpse was the group's horrified faces as he soared downward into empty air.

"H-Hey, did anyone else just see that? Did—" James thundered past Phil toward wherever Miles had plummeted. He expected to see some sort of steep drop as he approached, but he couldn't see anything except for flat ground.

A cold hand firmly grasped the arm of his jumpsuit, tugging him back. James was about ready to round on Phil for grabbing at him, but he felt soft blonde hair tickle his arm as Juliet wove past him, standing and staring at the ground.

"Don't go any further," She warned, eyes fixated on the patch of earth that Miles had once stood.

James froze, watching her as if she were some kind of specter. Maybe a few days ago, he would have resented the feeling of being pushed back, giving up leadership of the situation to Juliet; but he instead found himself reaching up to gingerly touch the area where her hand once lay, marveling for a brief second at the feeling.

Juliet was far from being a touchy person; if anything, she seemed averse to it. Daniel, of course, was a special case–Dr. Wizard seemed to bring out the mama instinct in her. For some reason, the moment stuck out to him. He watched her scan the ground, eyes clouded in silent thought. Phil, far from a silent thinker, came pounding up the slope after her.

Juliet put an arm out to block him. "Don't–We don't know what just happened,"

"He–There's nothing _there,_ he–" Phil's eyes were as big as saucers, flickering from Juliet to the ground and back. "What, is it quicksand? He couldn't have just _disappeared–_"

"Easy there, Barney," James strode up just behind Juliet, trying to read her expression. Unreadable as always, though. His attention turned back to Miles, or lack thereof.

"Yes, he could have just disappeared," Juliet finally answered, never looking up. She dropped onto her haunches and began looking around the jungle floor for something. After a moment of searching, her slim fingers curled around a rock, which she then tossed in the general direction of the patch of ground.

Sure enough, the rock bounced off solid ground for a few paces, before suddenly dropping out of sight. It was so quick James could barely see what had happened, but for a heartbeat he could see the rock suddenly falling, as if there was no ground there at all. His eyes widened.

"Alright, so there's a magic hole in the ground. We goin' in or what?" He wished he could be as cool as Juliet was about this situation. Jin's shadow fell on the ground next to him.

"Miles?" He pointed toward the ground. Phil cowered a few paces behind Juliet, looking as if he's just seen a ghost.

"A-Are you three not shocked at all? He just–he just _fell!_"

Despite not shaking in his boots like Phil, James had to admit he was… concerned. That was the feeling. He sure as hell didn't like being a follower, but he didn't peg himself as a leader either. Still, even though Miles was an ass, he _was_ part of their pack. And what were they out here to do if not regain lost members?

He turned to Juliet, content to hear whatever she had to say. The blonde had continued staring, lost in thought. James felt a small spark of pride at being able to pick up a hint of worry in her eyes; before, he wouldn't have seen anything at all.

"We shouldn't go through it; we don't know how long of a drop it could be," she paused for a heartbeat, the implications of her words hung heavy in the air, "But my best guess is somewhere underground. We need to find an access point."

Phil perked up timidly. "O-Oldham… His tent is next to a big hole in the ground. Leads into the caves, I think. But that's all the way on the other side of the fence."

"Something you wanna tell me about this whole underground business, Nancy Drew?" He knew prodding was useless; Juliet's best talent was keeping secrets. She stiffened a little, which was more of a reaction than he'd gotten before.

"I know what happened," she responded quietly, barely above a whisper. James' heart jumped at the prospect that she would somehow open up. _I'm just excited she's gonna give information_, he thought, pushing away the butterflies.

Juliet heaved a deep breath, her eyes suddenly glazing once more. James' heart dropped in his chest.

"–and I know where we're going to have to look. But I can't tell you any more than that, I don't _know_ any more than that ." He watched her intently. She tucked a wayward strand of hair back behind her ear.

"Are you sure about that?" He only realized how accusatory that sounded after he'd already said it. She seemed to almost flinch under his words. She raised her chin and met his gaze coolly.

"You can choose not to believe me. But I want to find Miles as much as you do, even if it's hard to believe I care that much." She stood up, breath catching in her throat as if she was stopping herself from continuing.

James stood up as well, torn between being defensive or angry. _How could she say she wants to find Miles? She doesn't even really know him._ A small voice in the back of his head bit back at her. Then again, he didn't really know Miles either. His brief flash of anger flickered out, leaving him staring at her.

Juliet's eyes flickered to the still-worried Phil, and then back to him. "We're not going anywhere close to the Hostiles," She said decidedly. James could see by the look in her eyes she was dead serious. He felt a spark of resistance.

How could she fake him out like that? She should _know_ that she can tell him things by now, that everything's water under the bridge. They agreed to truce, and he'd–

_He looked up; arms still wrapped around Kate. Squinting in the bright sun that bathed the shore, he saw another figure on the sand. _

"_What the hell is she doing here?"_

The memory felt like ice-cold water splashing on his face. He could tell Juliet was thinking the same thing. As much as he hated people stepping on his toes, he wasn't really in any place to lord over Juliet. She could have her secrets as much as he could have his.

_Does she not want to go to the Hostiles because they might recognize her from the fifties? It's a little late for that–Unless she wants to keep a low profile, perhaps because she was plotting with them–_ He felt guilty for thinking that way. But Juliet seemed to assume the worst about him, too. Right? 

"This is my fault." She stated coldly, as if it were a well-known fact. James looked up, brows knitting together.

"How could it?" His voice was a low, gravelly whisper. "He wasn't looking where he was going. He–"

"No," she cut across, "No… I mean this whole thing." She was silent for a moment. James opened his mouth to reply, but she continued. "You're all stuck here because of me; this is my mess. I'm cleaning it up."

"Don't say that, it's not true," he growled, unsure whether this whole thing _was_ her fault. Even if it was, it's not like he didn't cause this too. "It's everyone's fault, if you wanna put the blame on someone."

"You don't understand, I _have_ to do this–" Her breath hitched slightly, she turned away abruptly. She reminded him, in some strange way, of Jack–the compulsion to fix people. It irritated him, in a way. The fact that some people just had this _instinct _to fix and save people, something he'd trained out of himself at a young age.

"No, you _don't_. If you wanna help us, you could give us your top-secret Others manual, and maybe we can recover at least _one_ person that _we_ lost." She spun away from him on her heels, moving a hand up to her forehead.

"_Hey," _Jin's hand fell on his shoulder. He glanced between the two of them. "No arguing, find Miles." _So much for not having my toes stepped on_. Still, he took a few steps back. Juliet still stood with her back to him, hand over her face.

For a moment he feared she might be crying, but within a few seconds she turned to Jin, as cool and emotionless as the day they'd first met.

"I'm going to try and find an opening into the underground tunnel system, that's the best bet of finding Miles." Her eyes slid to James.

"All of you should stay together, I'll be fine by myself."

James' chest tightened. _So, she's ditching us? To go feel sorry for herself? As if she had any kind of care towards us in the first place, like this wasn't all a ruse to get away from Ben. _A wave of guilt crashed over him as soon as the thought was formed. He shouldn't be thinking that way. _Right. She's leaving because I upset her._

He could feel Phil staring a hole into the back of his head. He'd been watching and listening to their conversation, no doubt. Though, the more time James spent with these people, the less trusted Phil seemed to be. Whatever secrets they had would be safe.

"Right," was all he could say, his voice sounding much hoarser than he would have liked.

Jin stepped up beside Juliet. "You cannot go alone," he sounded out, then looked back to James as if asking for permission. "I am going too."

He nodded. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he would feel like a jerk for chasing off Juliet all by herself.

"It's settled then, me and Jin are going to look for an entrance to the tunnels." It always surprised him how quickly she could switch to and from 'Others mode.' It was hard to tell what was real.

Defeated, but not ready to risk his pride, James took a step back. "Right, me and Barney here will make the rounds near the Truce border." He took his walkie off of his belt and waved it at Jin. "Anything happens, ring me."

With that, they separated. Juliet walked away soundlessly; not even looking back at him.

_That sure as hell could'a gone better._

The first thing Miles heard was bleak, oppressive silence. The lack of sound seemed louder than any sound could ever be. Not even the dripping of water, ringing in his ears, or the droning ambience he had always taken for granted. Pure and oppressive nothingness. For a brief moment, he wasn't even sure what had happened, he could barely remember anything before this moment. Was he alive? How long had he been awake? He couldn't even tell if his eyes were open or closed.

Gradually, he began to realize that his eyes were open, but that they weren't adjusting to the light. He waited to see something, anything–little silhouettes or sparks of light, even–but the darkness stood fast. He could feel cool, smooth concrete or stone against the backs of his legs–he was lying down on his back, he realized suddenly–and still, stagnant cool air around him. He wasn't compressed under anything as best he could tell, but he felt a great pressure on him, as if the still air itself was weighing on him.

As he came to, he was able to move his toes in his boots and twitch the fingers on his right hand. His left hand felt oddly numb. Though there was no draft, he could feel cool air blowing on his left arm. Was it air? Something was making the fabric of his jumpsuit feel cold and sticky as it clung to his skin. Water, maybe? That was another thing he quickly realized; it wasn't humid wherever he was. Miles could feel something digging into his back, and grimaced as he forced himself to sit up.

He couldn't even really tell if he was sitting up all the way, or if he was right-side-up at all. There was no noise, no light; nothing to see or hear. The only thing he could use to ground himself was the cool, smooth floor. His head felt heavy, all of his thoughts fuzzy and disjointed. He took a deep breath of the still, stagnant air, startled by how loud his breathing sounded in comparison to the silence.

Miles began to remember, slowly, what had happened. He and Phil were arguing on that path, near a steep drop–he must have slipped and fallen over the edge, right? But he could remember being led off of it to solid ground. He looked up, or what he could best guess was up, and searched for any sign of his fall. He couldn't tell how far up the ceiling was, but by his massive headache he guessed it had been a hard fall. He twisted around where he sat, putting out a hand to feel for what had been digging into his back. He grasped empty air once, twice, then startled when he felt the object he had been laying on.

It was smooth and cool. Metal, as best he could tell. Some kind of long metal tube? He continued, grasping blindly onto the pile of stuff he had fallen on. His hand hit something soft and cool, a tarp-like material. A pillow, maybe? Grasping around next to it, he could feel a leathery kind of circle from which it extended. A steering wheel and an airbag, he realized. Probably the reason he didn't immediately crack his skull open on impact, he guessed.

Miles turned back around, planting his left hand against the ground in an attempt to prop himself up. He winced suddenly as icy-hot pain shot up his arm and into his shoulder. It was so sudden and sharp he almost fell over. Quickly, he brought his good hand up to inspect it. He grasped the cool patch on his jumpsuit, and his hand came back wet and sticky. _Blood. Damn, I'm bleeding. _Something wasn't right–beneath the thick, baggy fabric of his jumpsuit he could feel a strange bend that wasn't there before. Had he broken it?

Pulling his injured arm tightly to his chest, Miles cursed how _stupid_ he was to go stomping off. How stupid he was to go on this little journey in the first place. He wasn't searching for any of his people, why should it matter to him who they find? And now he's god-knows-where, all alone with a broken arm. _I'm alone. Again._ He let the familiar burn of loneliness sting, and then fade. Whether he was third-wheeling or not, he'd rather spend his time hiding from the Dharma welcome wagon than in whatever dimension he'd accidentally fallen into.

Pushing himself up to the best of his ability, Miles reached out to steady himself. Other than the pile of manmade things that had apparently also fallen down here, there was nothing but him and the floor. The sound of his stumbling, clumsy footsteps was a welcome break from the silence. Soon enough, the palm of his hand touched something cold and flat. As he slid his good hand along it, he realized it was some kind of rock wall. It was safe to assume he was somewhere underground. Though, how he got there remained a mystery. He couldn't see or hear any kind of way up to the surface, no hole he'd fallen through. At this point, though, he was done questioning things about the magic island.

_So, I guess this is my karma for being mean to Juliet? Island's way of telling me not to be a dick? Great, I heard it loud and clear._ Even the island itself was pushing him around. He just wanted to sit on that stupid little porch on the stupid little swing and have a stupid little nap, how hard was that? He wanted to sit down and be alone and not talk to anyone. Well, he got his wish–there wasn't anyone to talk to down here.

Despite his antisocial tendencies, the one thing he hated more than being around people was being left alone with his thoughts. That, and being put in time-out by the island itself. Couldn't say he didn't deserve it, though.

He continued shuffling along the wall, relishing the cool surface against his aching shoulder. His footsteps were loud, but the echo did nothing to help him navigate. All he could tell was that he was in some kind of long, underground tunnel.

Despite the pile of manmade objects, the walls and floor seemed naturally generated; he was glad there weren't any steep drop-offs or breaks in the walls. Despite the fact that the channel was naturally made, it felt more like an empty subway than a cave. He didn't feel like calling it a cave at all, really. No stalactites or stalagmites or whatever the hell they were called. The floor was flat and walkable, walls were smooth and straight, and it was big enough for a human to walk through, if not bigger. It was as if it was a tunnel made by a giant, stone-boring creature.

Science fiction aside, the silence was starting to eat at him. His heavy breathing and shuffling footsteps would bounce loudly off the stone walls, then quickly fade into echoes. He would have started talking to himself, if not for fear of sounding like Daniel in one of his 'inspired moods.' What _would_ Dan have done in this kind of situation? Well, firstly, he'd know way more about this than Miles would. He'd already have gone through his notes and would figure out exactly where to go and what to do.

This whole experience reminded him of when he was eight and had the brilliant idea of running away from home after something or another. Though, it was harder than it looked in a tight-knit urban neighborhood. After what felt like hours wandering through a maze of dark alleys, he'd come to find that he'd been walking in circles for a few minutes before his mother found him and brought him home. God, was she _pissed_.

The thought of his mom brought him back to the present–or the past, really. Of seeing her here, in the 70s, on the island. One hell of a coincidence, that she'd conceive him on the very island where he'd end up in the past. Young, healthy, happy.

He paused to catch his breath. Never before had walking in a straight line tired him so much. Leaning against the cool stone wall, he screwed his eyes shut and rested his forehead against the blessedly cold surface, trying to ignore the pounding headache. It wouldn't even be so bad that his mom was here, but his father–Pierre, he emphasized, wanting to distance from him as much as possible–was another story. He was just as much of an arrogant prick as he'd been in Miles' head all this time. But his mother… It hurt, seeing her so cheery around him. He wished he could go up to her and tell her the truth about him, that he would abandon her.

Miles jolted at the sudden shift in the air. Was it just him hearing things, or was there some kind of subtle, droning ambience surrounding him? That wasn't there before, was it? Maybe he was hearing his own pulse, or something like that. Or he just hadn't noticed it. But the noise wasn't the only change in the atmosphere. The air felt colder, even more still than it had been before.

_Maybe I'm going unconscious or something. I'm gonna pass out_. He couldn't deny the waves of fear crawling under his skin. Despite his powers, he considered himself a solid skeptic of anything strange or 'supernatural.' Sure, he loved himself a good X-Files or Ghostbusters, but he knew they weren't real. Then again, if someone had told him he'd be on a magic time-travelling island that moves, he would be skeptical of that too.

He held his breath for a brief moment. Was that the beating of his own heart that he was hearing, or footsteps?

Everything was silent.

"…Miles?"

The voice, loud compared to the droning silence, bounced off the walls and felt like it was surrounding him. His chest tightened, mind stalling.

"…Mom?"

Juliet swung her legs over the edge of a flat outcrop, pushing herself off the edge and dropping a few feet onto solid ground. She turned to glance over her shoulder, tucking a sweat-slicked strand of hair behind her ear. Jin was right behind her. He wasn't as adept at moving in the jungle as James, but he was certainly a lot quieter. Jin's standard-issue boots hit the ground next to her.

"Where now?"

Juliet squinted up at the way they had come. They'd descended from several outcrops, each poking out of the steep slope like a set of stairs. The path at the top of the slope was obscured by bright shafts of sunlight, silhouetting the vines hanging from the canopy above. There was far more shade down here; Juliet could feel cool, humid air coming up from the loamy jungle floor, a contrast to the scorching heat when in full view of the sun.

Heaving a breath, she surveyed the area around her. She could pick out a few more natural paths here and there, trodden mostly by the wild fauna, probably to and from watering holes. She wasn't exactly aiming for standalone water; most rivers and streams lead somewhere underground, which was most likely where Miles had ended up. 

Juliet pointed toward one of the more worn paths. "There. You lead, I can catch up." She panted. She was tired, but not from the walk. Jin looked back at her, before nodding affirmatively and starting through the path. She watched him push aside vines and branches, glad that there was at least one clean-cut path.

The overgrown dirt roads that the Others used to get around haven't even been built yet for the most part. And animal-trodden paths were far more unpredictable, they could fall out of use and become overgrown within a few days. Juliet could recognize a few things here and there, but everything felt different.

Walking through the jungle came second-nature to her now, she didn't even really have to think where she was going. It was an advantage, but she hated how easily her time with the Others had overwritten her personality.

Just the thought of the Others—_Hostiles_, she corrected herself –made her stomach roll. She felt terrible every time they were mentioned. She wasn't one of them anymore, she _defected_–but that didn't mean everything was even. She should have known that. Her thoughts, as they always did, went back to James.

_He was trying hard to be nice to me, to not upset me. It's not fair, he shouldn't have to do that. This whole thing was my fault._ She knew, rationally, that she wasn't the one who had shoved Miles into the ground, or flung them all back in time, but she felt like she did. She should feel that way, Juliet thought. It was only right. The guilt would be her punishment.

It would be so much easier if everyone was mad at her, if James still acted the same toward her as he did that first day on the beach. That's how everyone should treat her, she reasoned. She stumbled, almost tripping over a root.

Jin turned, stopping in his path and blinking concernedly at her. "Are you alright?"

_No._ She heaved another deep breath of the thick, humid air. It seemed to catch in her throat, stopping any words from coming out. She gently placed the palm of her hand on the nearest tree trunk, leaning up against it, giving herself the chance to weigh her words before they were said.

"Um, I think I'm okay. Thank you." She sounded a lot quieter than she intended, but her gaze was too fixed on the ground to put any effort into speaking up.

"We can stop. For water." Shrugging off his pack as he walked toward her, Jin fished out a Dharma-branded bottle of water and offered it. Juliet took a silent breath of relief; she wasn't about to give herself the privilege of asking for water. Still, she received the bottle and took a sip.

"Miles is underground?"

"As best as I can figure, yes." She dipped her head, taking another sip before passing the bottle back to him. He nodded, looking serenely out into the jungle in front of them. Both of them stood, leaning with their backs up against tree trunks, facing a shadowy, cool tropical forest that stretched out in front of them.

Juliet followed his gaze out between the trees ahead of them. It was almost serene; had they not been on the island, she might have appreciated the view.

"Sawyer," He said simply after a moment, turning to offer her a sympathetic nod. "Want to talk?"

"There's not anything to talk about," she deflected without even thinking about it; a knee-jerk reaction. She could feel his eyes on her, though they seemed more understanding than anything. He was quiet, but something about him took a weight off her chest, removing whatever had trapped the words in her throat.

"I just upset him, that's all," She continued, the silence sucking at her. Something about Jin seemed to make her want to talk. "He… He was just concerned. He should be; I should have told him about–god, I don't even know how I would have explained it, if he'd have believed me–"

She cut herself off, letting out a long, slow exhale. The force of the words spilling from her mouth had lessened, leaving her breathless, but relieved. She wasn't sure how much Jin understood, but it was good to say it, at least.

"Work better, together." His gaze softened slightly. "The jungle… Not good alone."

It was true, objectively–she knew that. Safety in numbers. But it wasn't about that. She was the danger, and she felt that as long as she was around, bad things would happen. But Jin didn't think that, neither did Daniel. Miles didn't say whether he didn't. Juliet felt very strange. They _should_ feel that way about her, it was right to be wary. But James' con thrust them all into this tight-knit mold that made her feel like more of a drag than an addition.

She could feel Jin's gaze on her still and let some of the tension bleed from her shoulders.

"Let's keep moving, then. We can make our way downhill from here and try and locate some running water.

She wasn't the type who could stand there and think; being alone with her thoughts was dangerous, she needed to _do_ something. Danger to society or not, she needed to get a head start on finding Miles.

"They can sneak right up on you, and you wouldn't even _know_—and then they sacrifice you! To the—_ouch_—the island gods or whatever." Phil's rambling was interrupted by a branch whipping into his face as James brushed past it, shouldering through the dense undergrowth. It was cooler here, but he wasn't keen on trudging through kudzu and tripping over tree roots for the remainder of their stay out here.

"Oh, yeah? So that proves the Hostiles are werewolves?" If anything, keeping Phil talking would scare off all the wildlife within a good few meters of them. Since he was stuck out here with him anyways, James felt it best to humor him. It was funny, after being on this island for so long, to have the Others re-explained to him.

"I didn't say they were werewolves specifically—Uhm, are you sure we know where we're going? I thought we were going back to your boat." James came to an abrupt stop, the ever-clumsy Phil nearly bumping into him.

"We're going to find the guy we just lost, I didn't think it was all that complicated." He growled, patience thinning in the merciless heat.

"You should'a kept your chick around, she could navigate _way_ better than you could." Phil remarked, rocking back on his heels.

"She's not my chick—" James snapped back, probably quicker than he should have, as if some kind of knee-jerk response. Immediately, his chest tightened with uncertainty. But why? She _wasn't_ his, wasn't anyone's for that matter. If anything, she seemed defensive around him.

"She's not?" Phil seemed genuinely incredulous; James could feel his bug-eyes burning through the back of his head. He gritted his teeth, predicting Phil would jump on her the second they met up again. Not that he was jealous.

"She—You know what? It ain't none of your goddamned business. I thought you were here to chaperone."

Phil puffed out his chest. "I am," he insisted, "I'm here to make sure everything's going smoothly."

"Well, you're doing a terrible job, Officer." James flashed him an expression somewhere between a pained grimace and a forced, sarcastic grin. Speaking of meeting back up, where the hell were they, anyways?

Phil's defiant gaze drifted away from LaFleur and into the shadows. "You guys all seem to argue a lot."

"We weren't arguing," James grumbled defensively, trying to make sense of the tight-packed greenery they had become trapped in, "We were having a calm discussion."

"You two seemed like you couldn't wait to get away from each other." Phil remarked casually, following him onto the closest thing to a path that they could find. James clenched his fists together in an attempt to keep himself rounding on Phil.

"What, do you _want _the Hostiles to jump on us? I think we could get this done quicker without talkin'."

That seemed to shut him up, at least for now. By what James could tell, they were in some kind of kudzu-swathed trench in between two slopes. The 'path' that cut through it didn't do them much good in terms of giving them relief from the branches and vines that threatened to trip them. James was at least glad Phil was leagues worse at cutting through it than he was; it gave him plenty of time to get far ahead.

_She's not my chick, she doesn't want anything 'ta do with me._ Sure, she was nice enough on the surface, but the two of them were just so unbelievably different. Well, maybe not _different_, but incompatible. They both lied for a living in one way or another, both were outcasts–but Juliet, well, she was somethin' else. She knew everything about everything–even though she had defected, she still had that Others way about her. Cryptic, all-knowing, and _secretive_.

It was his job—or rather, former job—to unwrap people, know about them. Or at least, know enough to take advantage of them. But Juliet was more of a Haliburton case than a paper-wrapped package. It frustrated and intrigued him at the same time. They were so close–they lived in the same house for god's sake–and yet so far. She seemed to go out of her way to avoid talking to him. She could speak to him, but not say _anything_. It was unbelievably frustrating. But he couldn't keep himself from coming back, from wanting to know more. But, how could he? It was her fault for pulling back, he insisted. But he knew it wasn't true. They just weren't compatible, simple as that.

But he didn't like that answer, as feasible as it was. He had a feeling his discontentment was more than just the con-man's disappointment in losing a connection.

Uneasily, he hauled himself up and over the rocks in his path, grabbing onto a banyan root above his head to steady himself. For a moment, he heard nothing but jungle ambience behind him, and turned to see if Phil had been blessedly lost. However, he could just barely see the other security officer scrambling up over the ridge behind him; he couldn't get too lucky.

Miles pressed his back to the icy-cold stone wall; the world felt as if it would spin out of control if he walked into the open. He swore he could hear the flow of his own pulse roaring in and around his ears. _I've been in the silence too long, I'm hallucinating, I'm going crazy._ Despite having heard ghosts his whole life, he'd never once felt like he was going insane.

He took in a deep breath of the cold, stale air—and held it, feeling the cool stone at his back. He couldn't tell how long it had been since he spoken; it sounded like the words from forever ago were still echoing in the endless chasm. No response, so far. But nothing had tried to jump out and grab him, either. He let out the breath, valiantly assuring himself that he was merely hallucinating. He _had_ just been thinking about his mom before she showed up.

Unsteadily, he shifted his weight back onto his feet, clutching his broken arm close to his chest and using his good arm to brace himself against the wall. It was the only thing that felt certain down here. Despite his best attempts to convince himself otherwise, he could feel the waves of fear continuing to crash over him –the primal gut feeling that something was terribly, indescribably _wrong_. But there wasn't anything here, he was just making things up in the lack of sensory stimulation –god, he sounded like Daniel–and there was absolutely _nothing_ to be afraid of.

He couldn't go a day without arguing, even with himself. Miles could only shuffle a few steps before the cold, still air around him seemed to make his knees lock in place. Despite the cold, he could feel a wave of burning frustration wash over him as he realized he couldn't even control his own emotions. Miles Straume wasn't afraid of _anything_–except dying alone, maybe. Or the voices never stopping. Or all of the people he'd considered friends leaving and dying around him. For a moment, he was so distracted by his own thoughts that he'd forgotten what had scared him in the first place.

"Miles?..." The sudden noise made him flinch violently, flattening himself up against the nearest wall in some kind of knee-jerk fear response. He could almost feel the rippling echo of the voice as it bounced off the walls. It took him a moment to even comprehend that it was real.

_Was it real?_ It had to be some kind of messed-up multifaceted hallucination, he was sure. 'Cause it really, really sounded like his mom–but unless she was also a fan of tromping around the jungle in hundred-degree weather, it was unlikely that it was _actually_ her.

The air shifted around him, the still ambience becoming icy-cold and heavy on his chest. It was freezing, but he was still sweating bullets. It felt like there was a thick cushion of air between him and the voice; as the cushion compressed, Miles felt like it was approaching him. He took a step back.

"Mom?" He repeated, voice wavering. The volume of his own voice almost made his ears ring, it sounded so _loud_–he decided that the voice must be farther away, as it sounded much softer. He listened to his own echo traverse through the cavern. Just as it was about to fade into nothing but a soft reverberation, he heard some kind of _shifting_ noise up ahead. The ground trembled subtly under his feet; it felt like all his other senses had been heightened since he couldn't see.

Again, he felt the shift as whatever it was seemed to inch closer. As much as he hated to admit it, it sounded real. But he _knew_ his mom wasn't down here; she wouldn't even be able to see him. There wasn't any reasonable explanation–hell, he couldn't even think of an _unreasonable _explanation. What, did he astral project his mom down here?

A sudden change in his surroundings caught him off guard—the wall had been following turned a sharp corner. He stumbled into open air, the echoes of his clumsy footsteps being the only thing to guide him in the pitch blackness. His only sense of solidarity and direction gone, he felt vulnerable and exposed. He stumbled awkwardly in the direction of what he thought was the nearest wall. After a moment of grasping the air, he collided with the opposite wall, flattening the palm of his good hand onto its smooth, cool surface. He followed along a sharp bend, trying to hurry himself along as much as he could. He couldn't tell whether he was venturing deeper into the tunnels or heading for the surface.

Miles knew he'd turned the corner when he heard the voice again, echoing awkwardly to one side.

"Miles? Where did you go?"

He felt a little bit of his personality bleed through, his annoyance outweighing his fear as he decided to respond, just for the hell of it.

"If you could cut the act and _stop_ sounding like my mom, that'd be great." His voice sounded harsh despite the softness of the echo, loud and grating on his own ear. He didn't want to give whatever the hell it was the privilege of him calling it 'ma'.

Immediately, he could feel a stark stillness behind him. It was way, _way_ too quiet–even he stopped for a second. Miles wasn't the type to admit when he'd messed up, but he had to confess he felt the silence up into his bones.

_Ah. Damn. _It seemed like no matter where or how he moved, the sound would always bounce back the way he came, telling this _thing_ exactly where he was heading. He kept attempting to bring up his other hand to help guide himself more quickly along the wall, but the sudden shooting pain would force him to jerk it back up close to his chest.

His boots skittered across the smooth stone floor as he swung around another corner, then another, running now, with only the echoes to guide him. Whatever was following him was trailing him but didn't seem to be in a big hurry. He swore incessantly in his head._ So, I fall down here, crunch my arm in half, and now I'm being chased by the ghost of Christmas past. Great. _If he ever got out of here, he was going to give the island a piece of his mind.

As he whizzed through another passage, he could sense an opening on his right. Skidding to a halt, he swung into the opening. He could feel the walls opening up on either side of him and the ground sloping upward. Hopeful, Miles veered to one side until he hit the wall, following it upwards. The ground leveled and the passage opened out. Squinting, he could make out a little bit of light. Relief washed over him for a brief second, but he could hear his pursuer pelting along behind him, giving him no time to get his bearings.

"Miles?" The voice echoed from the other end of the passage from which he had emerged. The echo was dulled by the opening from where light was coming in; it wasn't enough to fully see by, but enough to know which way was up. He could see the silhouettes of what looked like bars or roots crisscrossing the beams of light. If only his hand wasn't messed up, he could probably find a way to get up there.

He could hear the thing coming along behind him now –not footsteps, but a strange scraping, dragging noise, like a massive animal dragging its tail along the ground behind it. He stumbled quickly to the edge of the wall, bumping up against something that felt like a solid foothold. He braced himself to the wall, almost hitting his head on a sturdy bar or pole, crisscrossed with what felt like wires. It was smooth and cool to the touch.

Stepping up onto the foothold, Miles used his good hand to grab the pole overhead and hoist himself up. For a moment he balanced precariously just a few feet off the floor, reaching upward and finding another set of poles. It seemed to be a big, tangled mass of roots, metal poles, pipes, and wires over his head. The rest of the tunnel felt naturally generated, but for a moment Miles held out hope he was under the Barracks or another station.

"Where did you go, Miles?" The voice almost crooned. As it bounced and echoed, Miles could hear _something_ in the call–something was wrong. It reminded him of how a parrot spoke, mimicking words rather than actually saying them. It _was_ his mom's voice–or at least that's what it had sounded like at first. The more he replayed it over and over in his head, it started to sound dissonant and _wrong_. Miles held his breath as he wedged his back up against the stone ceiling, now thoroughly barred in by the mangled mass of pipes and supports.

It felt like his pulse itself was too loud, roaring in his ears. He wondered if the thing could hear his heartbeat. For a moment he wasn't questioning what this thing was or how the hell it sounded like his mom, he simply sat with bated breath as he waited for it to reveal itself. The light streaming from the ceiling didn't present itself in visible shafts, more like an eerie, ambient glow. It wasn't direct sunlight, more the reflection of a reflection of distant streams of light.

Casting his gaze downward, Miles felt his heart pounding into his throat as the silhouette of _something_ came into view. He squinted hard into the diffuse light, seeing some kind of organic form hovering at the very edge of his vision. It was hard to make out the size and shape of whatever it was, but it didn't look human. It was almost impossible for him to tell what he was looking at.

It must have been breathing quietly, if at all. Miles could only hear the scraping and dragging of the rest of it across the floor. Again, he tried to make sense out of what he was seeing. Fur, maybe? Lots of fur, like different pelts all melded together. Lots of ridges and limbs. Unable to rationalize what the hell he was looking at, Miles kept as still as he could within his cocoon of wires and cables, watching it hover at the edge of his vision.

_I did _not _sign up for this. I get snappy at Juliet, and immediately fall through the damn floor into the minotaur's labyrinth and get chased around by a rejected Goosebumps monster. _

After what felt like hours, the _thing_ seemed to retract into the darkness, and Miles could hear it shuffling back the way they'd come. He waited, then let out a breath of relief. At the very least, he knew he was close to the surface. If he could make his way over through the metal rods to where the light was coming from, there was a chance he could squeeze through. After taking another moment to make sure he was alone, he started making his way across the beams.

He shifted his weight onto each one to test it before he moved, the same thing he'd seen Juliet do when she was maneuvering over rocks or fallen branches in the jungle. He felt a kind of open hole in his heart, knowing she was probably looking for him. He hated being fussed over, it made him want to push people away even more, but he had to admit he felt bad. Not like he'd ever say that to her face, though. He hoped she wouldn't make a massive deal out of finding him.

Just barely a step away from the source of the light, one of the pipes bent and creaked underneath his boots. He barely had time to swear under his breath before the noise echoed down the passage where the creature had disappeared. Thinking quickly, he hoisted himself over and reached for the ceiling, grasping loose rock which showered to the ground. Finally, he got a hold of a good, solid edge with which to pull himself up. He brought up his bad hand and attempted to use it without thinking, yelping in pain and nearly tumbling downward. Miles kicked frantically, trying to find a bar to push himself up with as the shuffling and dragging noises came closer and closer underneath his feet.

His foot finally found a good hold on one of the supports below him, kicking him upwards to where he could climb up through an opening in the rock ceiling and into another passage above. There was a bit more light to see by here, but just barely enough to silhouette the edges of the walls and ceiling. Miles gave himself a second to pant for breath, momentary relaxation ruined by the sound of metal creaking and groaning beneath the floor. In a quick rush of adrenaline, he scrambled to his feet and launched off in the first direction he picked, following the source of the diffuse light. Stalagmites and columns rose from the ground, the walls of the cave far more natural than the bored tunnels he was just in.

Miles dove toward the first shaft of light he could see, skidding to a halt next to the thing which looked the most like a series of footholds dug into the wall. He could hear the sound of gravel and rock showering from where he'd come, and he knew he was being pursued. He scrambled upward to the best of his ability. The second he was on solid ground, he kept running. He barely even noticed the pain in his broken arm as he ran, going on pure fear. Miles kept running toward any light he could see, pounding down the most well-lit tunnels. He didn't know how fast this thing was but didn't want to find out.

Finally, he could see bright, bright shafts of light down one direction. Flying past the stalagmites and rock formations, he pelted toward the source. Miles wasn't sure if this thing would follow him up into the jungle, but at this point he'd rather be crossed by the smoke monster than something that could sound like his mom. Vines and weeds dangled down over the edge, a hole in the rock ceiling letting in sunlight directly from the surface. Just underneath the open skylight was a grassy slope that lead up onto the grassy ground. _Escape_. As soon as he felt the hot blast of wind from the surface, his knees almost gave out under him with the force of his relief.

Suddenly, his foot snagged on some kind of rift on the floor, sending him careening forward. He crashed onto the stone floor, landing directly on his broken arm as he skidded across the smooth rock and out of range of the warm sunlight. He barely had time to seethe from the pain before he realized he was lying in a crumpled heap right in the _thing_'_s_ path. _Nice_, he thought dazedly in the back of his mind, _get taken out by some eldritch abomination, the one interesting supernatural thing that happens to me and nobody's even around to see it._

The throbbing, icy pain in his arm was the only thing keeping him from wanting to pass out. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was laying on it but was unable to muster up the strength to move it. His gaze remained locked on the dark shadows from where he had come, waiting to see any sign of movement that signified the _thing_ was on its way. He watched, dazedly, as the sounds of shuffling and dragging echoed from the shadows. He could feel tremors on the stone floor; whatever this thing was, it was _big_.

The thudding and shifting and dragging came closer and closer. Just as Miles felt it was going to burst into the light and reveal whatever horrid form it took; a sudden burst of bright light flew into its path. A torch, he realized, had been tossed right at the shadowy border. Miles shoved himself up with his good hand, scooting backward until his shoulder hit a stone wall. He watched the flame flicker and lap angrily at the surrounding air, sizzling against the drops of humidity on the stone floor.

Suddenly, something flashed right into the torchlight, hovering at the border of the shadows, just to where some of its form was visible. In the split-second it was illuminated in the warm glow, Miles couldn't rationalize what the hell he was looking at. It was organic, that was certain; but it looked more like some kind of _mass_ of… fur and skulls. It was so quick he could barely comprehend it, but the very sight was enough to make his subconscious violently reject whatever he'd seen. But as quickly as it appeared, the _thing_ retracted into the darkness, as if hurt by the light.

Shocked, Miles flattened himself to the shadowy wall as a figure nimbly sprung onto the cave floor and bent down to retrieve the torch. Reality hit as he saw the rifle slung over the mystery figure's back. Same rifle that Jim and Juliet took off the Hostiles they shot when they first got here. Ah, great. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. The figure stood to its full height and paused as if to inspect him.

After taking a moment to look him over, the apparent Hostile took long, confident strides toward him; torch in one hand, rifle in the other. Injured, alone, and lost, Miles could only stare blankly as the torchlight approached; the warm, flickering light eventually reaching his legs. His gaze locked on the torch's reflection on the barrel of the rifle, watching it shine dangerously.

He half-expected to take a gun butt to the head and flinched at the first sudden movement. For a moment, he braced himself for a blow, but felt nothing. After a moment of silence, he opened one eye, then the other. The Hostile had extended a hand to him.

"Are you lost?"

"We've seen that tree before," Panted Phil, his tinny voice lost in the midst of the jungle ambience. James didn't even want to muster up the effort to roll his eyes, it was far too hot. Yeah, maybe they _had_ seen that tree before, but–

He stopped, gaze glued to the jungle floor as he realized he was standing next to a suspiciously familiar footprint, which was a suspiciously familiar size to his own standard-issue boot. _Nice. Real nice. _Kate was absolutely right; he couldn't track for anything. Maybe it was the heat getting to his head. _Or thinking about Juliet_. He shook his head as if to clear the thought.

Granting himself a moment's rest, James put his hands on his knees and took a few hard breaths, feeling like the hot, humid air was permeating his mind. Okay, he was walking in circles, now what? He'd be damned if he ever admitted that to Phil. He hoped they weren't _completely_ lost, because the last thing he'd need was for Horace to come and "save" him–and, knowing Horace, get hopelessly lost himself.

He squinted through the bright shafts of sunlight that permeated the green canopy, tracing them up the long, spindly tree trunks to where the leaves met the blue sky. He'd have appreciated the nice view if he wasn't so pissed–at himself, at nature, at the island, at Phil.

They'd hit a fork in the path a while back–or forward, considering they were going into a circle. Maybe he should try and find it again? Go the opposite way and see how it worked. God, the heat was making it hard to think. He started dragging himself onward, up closer to the path.

Phil continued meandering along behind him, probably still whining and complaining under his breath. If there was one person he didn't want to be on a deserted island with, it was Phil. He'd rather spend a romp in the jungle with Benjamin-goddamn-Linus. At least he'd do something interesting, like make a murder attempt.

It made him wonder, exactly, how Juliet was so calm and level-headed all the time. It pissed him off in a way, he hated being the least reasonable one, but he couldn't help but be amazed. If he'd had to spend three years with Gizmo, he'd have lost it a long time ago.

"_I'm sorry I kicked your ass, James." _He couldn't help but feel a bit bad. A lot bad, actually. Juliet had that slow, ponderous way about her, like she was always weighed down by something. She didn't _want_ to taze him, or to be a mole. _But I don't blame her for that, I don't _want_ to act suspicious about her. I don't _want _to offend her. _He wished he could go back and do everything over again. Because now he just felt like a monster.

He hadn't realized he'd stopped walking until he felt Phil collide with him.

"Oof–watch it, Barney!"

"It's not my fault you stopped in the middle of the path, LaFleur–" His remark stopped suddenly as James turned to face him. Phil's bug-eyes were locked on something in the distance. Not really in the mood to watch Phil get spooked by something stupid like a mouse, he reluctantly followed the other officer's gaze. He frowned, able to see some motion through the shifting greenery.

For a brief moment he wondered if he'd wandered into Hostile territory by accident, before remembering that he had been walking in circles only a few minutes from the fence. Right.

Ducking his head to be able to slip through the greenery, James pushed his way through the ivy and kudzu blocking his path, snapping a few branches on his way through. He hadn't been very self-conscious of how loud he moved through the jungle unless he was walking with Juliet. She seemed to ghost over leaf-litter and twigs without making a noise, making him feel clumsy as all hell.

As soon as he broke through the thick greenery and over into the neighboring clearing, the last thing he expected to see was Jin standing at the base of a tall Kapok tree. For a moment he blinked confusedly, before following Jin's gaze up toward the canopy of the tree. Sure enough, Juliet was nimbly scaling the limbs up toward the top. He stood there, watching her for a moment.

He'd seen Kate climb more than a few trees. She always reminded him of a little girl, eager to get her new overalls dirty as she climbed up a tree just to prove she could do it. She was a bit clumsy, far from a jungle animal, but seemed at home struggling her way up toward a dangling fruit. Juliet moved so differently from her; every step and elevation she took was perfect and fluid, she moved like a jungle cat. Not a single noise, snapped twig, or slip in sight. She didn't seem to be taking any enjoyment in climbing it, it just seemed like another day to her, scaling a tree as casually as one would climb stairs.

"Well, I'll be damned." Jin started at his sudden words, but Juliet continued hoisting herself to the nearest branch, turning smoothly to swing her legs over the edge as she looked down on him. Her eyes locked on him for a second; he felt as if he was being scanned.

"Nice view," he quipped, thinking quickly. Her smile was enough to take the weight off his chest. He didn't know how much he had missed it.

"Got lost, I'm assuming?"

"We went in a _circle, _Phil stumbled out of the tangled vines, dusting himself off. "Your fearless boat captain doesn't know how to track."

"Good thing you came to ask for help, then." She swung herself down from the branches and back into the reach of the tree trunk, gracefully sliding down. He couldn't deny he felt a little spark in his chest when she smiled at him.

"James," she said.

"Blondie," he replied, coming to stand a foot or two from her. "Any luck?"

She heaved a sigh, her gaze wandering away. "Not really. We're looking for running water; most likely will lead back to a cave of sorts. I think that's our best bet."

"Whatever you say, field trip leader." She smiled and tipped her head in response. "Got any idea where we are?"

She hesitated before answering; James could tell she was trying to figure out how much she could let on that she knew her way around the island.

"Vaguely. Far less wildlife around here, so I'd say we're close to a road." Her gaze flickered over to one side, subtly motioning to a break in the greenery where James guessed there was some kind of road. The motion was so quick he barely caught it but nodded in agreement. Before Phil could pipe up, Juliet turned to him.

"Are there any streams nearby?"

He closed his mouth, thought for a second, then opened it. "Something like that, yeah–I mean, I really doubt it leads anywhere, but–"

James was on the ground ducking for cover before he'd even knew what happened. Three shots rang out into the air nearby. Juliet's reflexes were quicker than his, as always. She was half-crouched on the ground, looking straight ahead from where the shots had come. She didn't seem as wide-eyed and worried as the rest of the group. Unfazed, as usual. Another shot rang out, she barely flinched.

"We're being ambushed!–" _Of course, we're being ambushed by Hostiles and your first action is to speak loud as all hell, great._ He would have glared at Phil if the heat hadn't drained his energy. Jin was the second to slowly rise, keeping his eyes on Juliet.

"They're not shots from a rifle." She said quietly, hesitating for a moment before getting up. "I doubt they're Hostiles."

Getting up off the floor, and feeling a bit stupid for ducking so quickly, James followed her into the underbrush. She led them quietly toward a slope near the treeline. James' heavy boots slipped on the pebbles making up the incline, but Juliet wordlessly helped him up by the arm, moving on quickly. He froze on the very edge of the slope, hand ghosting over where she'd touched his arm, before following.

They crouched behind a screen of ferns and swiss-cheese-plant leaves, looking out over a patch of rolling grassland. Sure enough, there was a dusty dirty road where the hill sloped up to meet a ridge along the west side. There was a van parked half-on, half-off the side of the road. A few men sat on the edge of the open sliding door, wearing jumpsuits and drinking out of Dharma-branded cans.

Further down the slope, a few wooden pallets had been stacked to about waist-height. On top were several empty beer cans and one empty tin can, all lined up in a row. About a tree-length from the display stood another jumpsuit-clad figure, clumsily aiming at one of the cans. James flinched a little at the sharp _ping!_ of the bullet hitting the can and knocking it onto the ground.

"The workmen," muttered Phil, as if he hadn't been frightened flat on the ground by the shots a few seconds ago "They're supposed to be doing a supply drop to the Flame, not drinking."

Juliet and James exchanged a glance.

"Mystery solved," he shrugged, watching the workman in question take another shot, this time shooting a clean hole in a nearby banana leaf.

"They're violating rules," piped up Phil, "LaFleur we need to get out there and–"

"That's not what we're doing out here, it's not any of our business," Juliet cut across him calmly. James blinked at her.

Phil gawked at her, before swinging around to look at James. "It is _too_ our business, we're security," he frowned. "If they're drunk they could probably hurt themselves or something," He added, as if trying to downplay how excited he was to get someone in trouble.

Jin raised his chin slightly. "Miles?" He prodded, keeping half an eye on Juliet.

Juliet was looking at him; making eye contact. James felt his heart in his throat for a brief moment. It was as stupid of a decision as deciding whether or not to jump out and tattle on a bunch of drunk janitors, but it felt like more than that. He'd always known one can tell a lot about a woman through their eyes, but never had it ever been so true as it was with Juliet. It was really the only window he had into her thoughts.

"They're grown men, they can handle themselves, we'll just snag them for slacking off when we get back," He stated gruffly, barely even flinching as the next clumsy shot was fired into the dirt. Phil blinked incredulously as he turned away from the treeline and headed for the slope back into the jungle.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," he squeaked, his voice still low enough not to be heard by the Workmen. James felt Juliet push off of the treeline and follow soundlessly after him. Phil's boots scrabbled clumsily over the pebbles that led the way down the slope, sending gravel showering onto the jungle floor below.

"You're on duty, you're just gonna let those guys sit there and slack off?"

"_First_ of all, we ain't on duty. We're just in uniform–" James half expected Phil to stomp his feet like an upset toddler.

"You're supposed to be out here looking for your lost crew members, but obviously you don't _want_ to do that anymore–"

"Well, we lost a crew member a few hours ago, what d'you know? And, we're lookin' for him. Checks out to me."

Phil shrank back as Juliet strode around the side of him to stand next to James.

"Miles might be in danger," she countered calmly, "I'm sure the other security members will notice someone slacking off on their shift." Phil huffed at her, but said nothing. Again, James felt her slender hand come to rest on his arm.

"Let's go around the meadow and see if we can meet the road again, it might go over a stream." She prodded, meeting his eyes. She knew where she was going. Hopefully.

"Should we take a water break first?" She asked, extending a bottle to Phil, who shrank away as if for fear of being poisoned.

"I brought my own," he grumbled, beady eyes shifting from Juliet to James. He watched her nod affirmatively and start navigating through the kudzu-swathed wilds, Jin at her heels. Phil started to follow but turned to face the much taller James with a seething, beady-eyed glare.

"When _Jonathan_ comes to take over as the new Head, you're gonna get what's coming to you. You'll see what a _real_ leader acts like." James watched, unimpressed, as he slunk off into the greenery. His threat would have been much less empty if he knew who exactly Jonathan was. Shaking his head, James decided to bring up the caboose, laying his hand over where Juliet had laid hers on his arm.

Not that Miles would ever admit he was scared, but he'd be lying if he'd said his heart wasn't beating out of his chest. His critical gaze followed the hand up to the body, and face, attached to it. A wave of both recognition and cold sweat hit him as he realized why the voice was so familiar._ Alpert._ He fought to muster a bit of his signature spunk.

"Er," His mouth felt dry all of the sudden. "No, I was just running around underground for fun." The hand was still extended toward him. He reached for it with his bad hand, before realizing his mistake and using his good hand instead. Richard's grip was strong, but gentle as he pulled him onto his feet. He didn't seem to react to his quip at all, instead turning to look back where he'd come from.

If he knew anything about the Hostiles (he didn't, really), he'd assume whatever the hell that _thing_ was might have been some kind of pet of theirs. That, or an escaped Dharma experiment. He decided it best not to mention something that he could barely even describe himself. He could feel Alpert's gaze settle on his broken arm, which he clutched self-consciously to his chest. He didn't know what was worse–being targeted for his injury and taken for ransom or having someone _else_ to worry over him.

Thankfully, his gaze slid up to his jumpsuit instead, landing on the embroidered name and security patch. He cocked his head. "Miles?... I assume LaFleur's group has been accepted into Dharma's ranks."

"Unfortunately, yeah." His good hand ghosted over the patch of dried blood on the arm of his jumpsuit. Not that he was one for being outdoors, but he'd kind of rather be wandering in the jungle on his own instead of being interrogated–or worse, have to hold casual conversation.

Alpert lowered his rifle and slung it back over his shoulder, leaning his torch up against the cave wall. He slid a satchel off his other shoulder and wordlessly opened it, motioning for Miles to sit back down. He wasn't sure why, but he did.

"So, what are you doing out here? Do you know how far you are from any camps?" Miles guessed he didn't have much of a say in whether or not he got fixed up, as Richard began taking out medical supplies from the satchel and rolled up his sleeve. He could have–and probably should have–yanked it away, but he was… Well, he didn't really know. _Probably in shock or something, yeah._

"Beats me. One second I was walking around and the next I fell through the floor." He didn't seem to react to that. _Probably heard that a hundred times by now._ He couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed.

"Since you didn't shoot me, I'm gonna take a wild guess that I'm not over the Truce border," He spoke up as casually as he could to avoid seething through his teeth as Alpert inspected the break in his arm. Miles glanced down at the wound, feeling a sudden jolt at his stomach at how distended his arm looked. He flushed with embarrassment as he realized Richard saw him flinch.

He frowned. "Truce border? No–You're a ways from _any_ border at all. Unclaimed territory," His hands were warm and steady as he began to clean the wound. Miles was still unsure of whether or not he was in danger of capture, or just the discomfort of being in a conversation.

"So, what are _you_ doing out here then?" He followed up quickly, speaking a bit too fast in order to cover up his distress at the stinging wound.

"I was just returning from running some errands," Vague and cryptic, Miles didn't know what he expected. If there was one 'Others' quality Juliet had, it was that. He guessed he wasn't going to get any more information than that.

"Can you feel anything past the break?" Well, no, Miles couldn't feel the strong hand gently squeezing his wrist – but he _could_ feel his face flushing. He wasn't able to manage much except for a shake of his head.

"I'm guessing none of your group know you're out here," That _could _be Richard testing to see if anyone would come looking for him if he were to be taken captive, but Miles couldn't make himself lie.

"Nah," he said, dismissively, "I mean, they know I'm gone. They're probably looking for me," He added quietly. Juliet was probably dragging them all over the place. She probably knew about the whole falling-through-the-ground business before it happened anyways, magic Others knowledge or whatever. _I wish she wouldn't care so much. We don't even really know each other._

"They're most definitely looking in the wrong place, then," Before he knew it, Alpert was splinting and wrapping up his arm. He breathed a sigh of relief but couldn't help but feel a sense of loss as his warm hands left his skin. "Sorry, but it looks like you're going to need a new jumpsuit."

He probably should have been threatened when Alpert suddenly brandished a knife, but he wasn't. Instead, he watched him neatly carve away the bloody fabric, leaving his splinted forearm exposed.

"This," he waved the scraps emphatically, "is a really good way to get yourself run down by a meat-eating predator," Miles wasn't sure what to do with this information, or how to respond. Again, he was offered assistance to get up, and didn't hesitate to take his hand that time.

"You shouldn't be out here by yourself,"

"Didn't have much of a choice," Miles shrugged to the best of his ability. He opened his mouth, wanting to mention that _thing_, but thought better of it. Still, his gaze lingered on the ominous shadows from where he'd come.

"I _mean_, you're coming with me." _Speaking of not having a choice…_ "You don't stand much of a chance by yourself with little knowledge of how to get by," Miles would have been offended if he hadn't been right. Reluctantly, he swallowed his pride for the sake of avoiding death for another few hours.

Alpert gracefully scaled the small incline up into the sunlight, Miles trailing warily at his heels. He sighted a piece of paper poking out of one of the pockets in his dress shirt, which he tucked out of sight casually.

"So, you're helping me because…" He just couldn't let himself be taken care of. Again. Richard looked at him, confused. The sudden eye contact made his brain stall a little.

"We're on opposite sides of a war, and LaFleur did kill two of your men,"

"He repaid for the killings, no harm done," Not that Miles was the emotional type, but that answer caught him off guard.

"And I'm not really on anyone's side–I'm not supposed to get involved." _Oh. Well that clears _everything_ up. _"Besides, it would be wrong to leave an injured person here by themselves, no matter their affiliations." Ignoring how confusing Richard's moral compass appeared to be, Miles was glad to be alive for now.

Thankfully, Richard didn't appear to be much of the talkative type, instead leading him wordlessly through the undergrowth and out onto a natural path through the trees. The warmth of the sunlight on his exposed arm was a welcome relief from the cold underground. Even though he was out in the tropical heat, however, Miles still felt a chill surrounding him.

Taking in the surroundings, Miles figured that they were somewhere near where Daniel had first dropped, close to where Jack's people had split in half. Therefore, close to the future location of the cockpit. Funny how similar, yet how _different_ everything looked. It had an air of familiarity about it but wasn't outright navigable. He assumed Dan and Char must have come this way on the way to the Tempest, too. And, knowing Charlotte, she probably took some kind of risky detour which ran them into Kate. It was funny, how all of that felt like years ago. Or rather, years in the future.

"So, where's your scientist friend?" Richard asked casually, brushing a fern out of the way and holding it aside for Miles to walk past. He noted that he didn't mention Charlotte. 

"Off-island, doing scientist things," The Others' cryptic and vague nature made it hard to tell interrogation from casual conversation. He'd thought Juliet was weird before, jeez–

He unenthusiastically straggled up a slope after Richard, who seemed to spring over everything with grace. Okay, maybe he missed the air conditioner a little bit. Quite a bit, actually. He was sweating in the thick, baggy, long-sleeved jumpsuit. Richard, however, was always dressed in formal attire, and was certainly not sweating.

"Don't you ever get hot out here?" Panted Miles, straying a bit off the path to try and walk in the shade.

"You get used to it after a while." Oh, that reminded him.

"How long have you been out here?" _If you get to ask intrusive questions, I do too. _

"If you're asking how old I am, I don't think I can give you a simple answer. I stopped counting," As with Juliet, he seemed to take it in stride.

He took a turn onto a shadier path, all the while not looking back. Miles tried to keep up as best he could; he didn't want people to slow down for him. However, he also didn't fancy dying in the jungle because he was stubborn.

"You don't look old," Miles piped up, finally falling in behind Richard, who seemed to sense he was falling behind and slowed.

He laughed a bit–a _genuine_ laugh. It caught Miles off guard.

"Thank you, I think. I certainly feel old, though." Ok, he had a really nice smile. And a really nice laugh. Miles almost forgot that he walked onto private property to steal someone's dead body the other day.

Ok, Miles didn't like people slowing down for him. Or trying to take care of him. Or giving him first aid. But he had to admit, Richard _was_ rather nice about it. Maybe the constant threat of being taken hostage made everything a bit more interesting. Either way, at least he was out of the tunnels and away from _that_ thing.

"Stop trying to trip me, I know you're trying to!–"

"I am not tripping you."

"Don't make me turn this car around." James had picked up a walking stick along the way and shook it half-heartedly.

Phil shrank back and refrained from making another remark as Juliet slipped past him, falling into step beside James at the head of the group. He gave her a nod of greeting. "Alright Trixie Belden, anything else we need to do?"

She frowned, glancing over her shoulder at the other two members of their patrol. "If we keep heading in this direction, we'll hit a small stream that flows out of a cave; that's probably our best bet." She kept her voice down, moving a little closer to him.

He let his gaze flicker over her, trying to take in her body language. He noticed how close she was. Most likely just to keep the others from hearing. Should he start talking or something? Apologize? He opened his mouth to speak–

"Thank you–for backing me up, I mean," she started quietly. His heart jumped into his throat. "I don't mean to cause trouble,"

"It's fine, blondie," his voice sounded hoarser than usual "We're part of a group now, we stick together," James tried to see any kind of reaction; he swore he saw something flicker in her eyes.

"I just. Didn't want to get involved with the workmen at the moment…" She paused, as if deciding whether or not to continue, "I had a bad feeling."

"Others intuition?" He held his breath, wondering if he should not have said that. He let out a sigh of relief as she smiled and tipped her head in response.

"Sure, if you'd like to call it that." His blush made the jungle heat pale in comparison to the flush on his face. Alright, group still together. Maybe playing Jack wasn't all that hard after all.

"What do you think they're talking about up there?" Jin paid no attention to Phil, who was still insistently buzzing in his ear. Instead, he kept his gaze on Sawyer–_Lafleur_, he reminded himself–and Juliet, who were leading the group. They talked in hushed voices their heads close together.

To be honest, he didn't feel any kind of curiosity as to what they were talking about. They were both capable leaders; he felt comfortable with them. Juliet reminded him of Jack. He felt she was trustworthy and smart. That didn't mean he'd forgotten where she'd come from, though. He remembered LaFleur seeing her on the beach the first day, the panic as Claire got sick–Hell, for all he knew, _she_ was the one who took Claire. He didn't trust her at first. Sun seemed to be the only one brave enough to approach her. _Because she was scared to tell me she was pregnant._

Juliet reminded him of Sun, too. Strong, intelligent. As soon as he started seeing Sun–here, in the compound, in the 1970s–he didn't know who else to go to. He felt she would know best. If Sun trusted her enough to come to her with problems, he would trust his wife's judgement and do the same thing.

And there was never a doubt in his mind that Sawyer was capable. Jin knew as well as anyone that past professions didn't matter here–even if he had gotten a rough start on the island, Jin had as well.

He was unsure of John Locke's unfailing trust in the island, but he felt this was indeed a place of second chances. He had gotten a second chance with the love of his life–even when he felt he didn't deserve it. It only made sense to extend that mercy toward someone else. It was a man's duty to extend grace to another man. Since they had been captured by the tail-section survivors, he'd felt a kind of bonding loyalty to LaFleur.

But, seeing Sun _here_–it was shocking and confusing. He'd told Locke not to bring her or their baby ever back to this island–but Locke had a habit of ignoring other people's wishes for the island's. He thought maybe he was just seeing things out of grief. It _looked_ like her, it _sounded _like her–but something was off. He couldn't place it, but something was wrong. He would hear her voice, see her out of the corner of her eye. But mostly, it was when he was sleeping or wandering toward an underground access point.

He thought Juliet would be the best person to inform about this. He saw trusting her with this information as an extension of his loyalty. Her and James seemed to fit perfectly into the leader role together, but they both had some kind of tension between them. Being a staunch supporter of second chances, he felt trusting her would be beneficial to both of them. She seemed surprised by the gesture, but he felt it helped bond them together.

She seemed to be as confused as he was by Sun. She'd said it wasn't like anything she'd heard before; not even the 'black smoke.' Since he'd confessed it to her, he felt it had improved the bond in the group. Juliet had always been kind to him; she even helped him learn English.

Miles was a strange story. He reminded Jin of Sawyer, but he hadn't known Miles for very long. He seemed more antisocial than Sawyer was–if that was even possible. Snippy, sure, but without the con-man charisma. He was surprisingly more agreeable than Sawyer was at first. Miles and Juliet seemed to get along surprisingly well, perhaps it was his similarity to James. Jin wasn't sure what to feel without Miles, but if Juliet was concerned about his safety, he would be too.

A flash of black out of the corner of his eye made Jin stop. He stiffened. He could hear the whistling of a breeze, but the trees and leaves around him were completely still. The breeze began to vary in pitch, the sound surrounding him, sounding more like whispers. Jin held his breath, watching Juliet up ahead. She didn't seem to notice anything wrong. In a split-second decision, he turned off the path and wandered closer to the sound. He felt a tightness in his chest, a close and familiar presence.

"Hey! Where do you think–" He'd gotten surprisingly good at drowning out Phil's voice. He was assured that Phil's squeaking would bring Juliet and Lafleur along behind him.

Gently pushing his way through the brambles, he swore he felt breath tickling he back of his ear. Suddenly, the greenery at his hands fell away, revealing a small clearing sidled up against a massive stone wall. Within the stone was a giant, gaping cave opening, the blackness almost beckoning to him.

Spurred on by the whispering, Jin stumbled forward until he felt something wet on his boots. He looked down, realizing he was now standing in a shallow brook up to his ankles. Turning around, he realized the rest of the group had followed him.

"That's exactly what we were looking for," Juliet stepped gracefully over the brook and took in the giant, gaping maw of a cave. Phil, rather flustered, was on LaFleur's heels.

"Are you just going to let members of your group run off like that? Can't you keep your people under control?" LaFleur paid him no mind, instead sizing up the cave entrance.

"You sure we're going to be able to move around in there?"

"Well, we should probably light a torch first."

Juliet placed her hands on her hips, staring into the dark cave before them. It opened like a gaping wound on the cliff face, an incline of grit and pebbles leading up to the very entrance. It wouldn't be too hard to scale; a few carefully placed steps would be all they'd need. And a torch, of course. Then there was the question of navigating underground–she'd always had a bad feeling around the island's caves and ravines.

Turning on her heels, Juliet strode to where Jin and James were searching for torch wood. Phil, dissatisfied with their adventure so far, had plopped himself on a rock and was glancing warily at the cave. Juliet slowed to stand in front of him.

"You're not going to help?" Phil started at her sudden words, then brought his arms self-consciously across his chest.

"I _am_ helping, it's my job to supervise you." He insisted, side-eyeing her. Ever since she'd pinned him a few days ago, he seemed to act wary around her. She was used to being perceived as dangerous at this point.

"Well, maybe you can help supervise me in the cave?" Phil sat up abruptly.

"I don't–Why do you think we're gonna find your friend down _there? _How do you even know that?"

"He went through the jungle floor. Underground. Caves are underground." She tipped her head to one side. "You're not scared of the dark, are you?"

"Absolutely not!" That got him to stand up quickly.

"Alright, mighty jungle warrior, we bring you the gift of _fire_." Juliet turned to see James returning triumphantly from the treeline, a torch-worthy stick in hand.

"Where's the fire part of it?"

He shrugged, "It's a work in progress."

She hummed, satisfied, as he handed over the branch.

"Wouldn't have happened to have brought a lighter for our leading lady, would you?" Phil screwed up his face, then begrudgingly fished a Dharma-branded lighter from his jumpsuit pocket.

"Don't use it all up, I have to have a smoke sometime." 

Juliet accepted the lighter and felt the top of the branch. Too moist to light, but at least the base of the torch was moist enough to safely hold. Scanning the area, she spotted an oil palm near the treeline.

"You two stay here, I have to find some oil to help light this," James raised his brows as he realized she was inviting him along.

"You know how to make a torch?" She called over her shoulder once they were alone.

"Maybe. Are we getting jungle survival lessons?" Juliet handed over the branch.

She slid off the backpack she had been carrying and walked over toward the oil palm, using the machete-like blade she'd taken out of her pack and firmly stabbing it into the trunk.

"To light a torch, you can't just wrap some cloth around it usually. You need something that will light. Like oil," Using the machete as a grip, she hauled herself up the tree, then dislodged the blade and stabbed it in higher up. She'd never really liked living outside, surviving off of jungle knowledge, but she had to admit it was useful.

"Let me guess; you learned this from the girl scouts?" James was surprisingly nice to her, she thought.

_Too nice, for everything I've done._ She pushed the thought away, not wanting to further divide them. He was charming, she couldn't deny that. They had a lot of similarities, but she couldn't think about what they'd had in common without the lingering guilt of having read his file.

"Sure. That's how I got my taser badge." She shot back, feeling a bit of warmth in her chest as he returned her comment with a sly smile. He was fun to interact with, too.

Juliet used the machete handle as a foothold and stood up carefully, grabbing a handful of the red fruit growing beneath the fronds. After checking how ripe they are, she swung her legs down over the edge of the palm and landed gracefully on the jungle floor, retrieving the knife from where it remained in the trunk and slipping it into the backpack.

"You're not gonna ask me to eat those, are you?" She took his hand and deposited the fruits into it.

"I wouldn't recommend eating them. These are palm oil fruits, where palm oil comes from." She used her hands to close his around the fruits. "Hold that."

"Alrighty then, your highness," With the fruit in one hand and the torch in the other, he seemed rather content to hold things for her. Satisfied, Juliet began taking off her first shirt layer, revealing the much cooler tank top underneath.

"Woah, hold on–Maybe we should move somewhere more private?" She gave him a look–a good-humored one.

"I'm only taking off one shirt–here," Wadding up the tank top, she wrapped it around the upper end of the torch. "You need to put in some work too, crush up those berries in your hand." She laid her hand over his, putting some pressure on it.

"These aren't poisonous or anything, right?"

"James–"

"Okay, okay, there," She guided his clasped hand toward the cloth-wrapped end of the torch, soaking the wrap with palm oil.

"You can pretty much guarantee there's a palm oil around no matter where you are on the island; you can use animal fat too if you really need it." She had to admit, it was nice to be the teacher for once. Surrounded by the almost superhuman skills of her fellow Others, it felt like she was the only one who was lagging behind. Even Alex, so much younger than her, made her own knowledge feel so small and useless.

James shook the remaining oil off of his hand, dropping the remains of the fruits onto the jungle floor and wiping the residue on the leg of his jumpsuit. "Alright, very educational. Now what?"

"Last step: light the torch. Just make sure you don't have any oil left on your hands." With a simple flick of Phil's well-used lighter, the torch sprung to life. "See? Easy."

"Seems like an awful lot of these Jungle Scout activities involve climbing trees," he sniffed, fully handing over the torch to her. His smile looked very nice in the firelight. She hummed thoughtfully.

"Maybe tree-climbing will be a lesson for another day."

With that, she swung the torch back toward the way they came and led them back to the clearing. Jin and James were where they had left them; Phil pouting on a fallen log in the shade, and Jin drinking water by the stream.

"You didn't do anything to Jin, did'ja?" Phil frowned at James' remark.

"I didn't do anything to anybody. It's not like he can understand me anyways," he huffed snidely.

Jin and Juliet exchanged a glance. The torchlight seemed to finally bring the entire group–save for Miles, of course–back in one place.

"I need someone else to go in with me; James?–"

She was abruptly cut off by Phil.

"Don't leave me out here!" He said, gesturing wildly to Jin.

"I do not want to be out here with him." Jin agreed simply, pointing to Phil. James let out a long breath.

"I can stay. Who do you wanna take?" Juliet blinked, then settled on the other security officer.

"Phil? I think you'd be good at supervising." If she could do anything for James, it would be taking Phil off his hands.

"Just the two of us? Alone?"

"C'mon," James gave him a half-playful shove, "you're not scared of a little bit of darkness, are 'ya?

"Not the _darkness_, per say…" Phil begrudgingly walked next to Juliet, side-eyeing her like one would a wild animal they didn't fully trust. Although used to being treated this way, she didn't mind Phil being afraid of her.

"Let's go, then," She nodded toward the stack of gravel and small rocks leading up to the looming mouth of the cave, "You go first."

Phil hesitated, but seeing Jin and James watching him, puffed up his chest and marched determinedly to the incline, immediately slipping and would have fallen face-first onto the shale, had Juliet not easily grabbed him by the jumpsuit collar with her free hand and pulled him back up. He yanked himself away, dusted himself off, and clumsily scrambled up the edge. Juliet followed.

Upon entering the cave, the torchlight was almost immediately swallowed by the darkness. By the time Juliet's eyes had adjusted, Phil had blindly stumbled a few steps into the cave. From what she could see, downward slopes and steps let the way down underground. She'd never liked being underground or going near any kind of underground opening. Not in present day, but _especially_ not now. It gave her a really bad feeling–though most things in the Barracks tended to unsettle her.

Stepping carefully around an unstable-looking pillar where a stalagmite and stalactite joined together, she aimed the flickering torchlight down the almost manmade looking downward path. Phil peeked cautiously down into the darkened hole.

"We're not really going down there, are we?" He asked hoarsely, his voice sounding a lot louder than it did outside. Juliet frowned.

"I don't know," she started, "I'm not sure how safe it is," If there was one thing she'd learned here, it was to trust her intuition, which was currently telling her something was… off. It was a different kind of off than when she'd walk over manhole covers in the Barracks, though–a different kind of entity.

"I'll take a look, but if it isn't safe we'd be better off tracing the brook until we find another one," she kept her voice low, quiet enough not to echo.

"You don't _know_?" Phil exclaimed incredulously, his shrill voice bouncing off the moist stone walls of the cavern. "Why'd you drag us out here, then?" He took a moment to look her over before deciding he felt brave enough to take a step forward.

"How do you even _know_ so much about these caves? Have you been here before?" Juliet resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The others might feel a bit more threatened by the thought of slipping up in their lies, but she'd been doing this for a long time.

"Keep your voice down, do you _want_ to attract something dangerous?" She kept her tone cool and level as always. "You can go back if you want, but I thought since you are the chaperone, you'd want to keep a close eye on me," She gave him no time to reply as she carefully edged a few steps down into the blackness.

"I think I'll stay up here for now," he replied meekly, crossing his arms. She left Phil to peek over the edge of the crevice and watch as she descended, steps light and soundless.

As she crept further down, the torchlight illuminated where the steps ended and the bottom of the cave flattened into a floor, the other end shrouded in shadow. Frowning, Juliet realized that the cave ended there and didn't appear to go down further. Still, she wandered to the edge of the warm torchlight.

As the light began bouncing off the back wall, Juliet angled the torch closer to the floor. On first glance, it looked almost like a tunnel going downward, but as her eyes adjusted, she could see a series of even, square shaped holes in the floor. _A manmade grate_, she realized. Something she'd been told during her training suddenly resurfaced, primal fear rising in her chest as she realized what exactly they'd stumbled upon. She sprang back a few steps, the back of her ankles hitting a ledge and almost tripping her.

"Is there something down there?" Phil's shrill voice had never sounded louder; he'd quickly forgotten her instruction to keep his voice down. No time to scold him now, though, as Juliet felt a subtle vibration from the cave floor through the soles of her boots.

She cleared the manmade steps up two at a time, dropping the torch in the process. It rolled up against the grate, sending small pieces of grit clinking against the stone as they were pushed downward. The inaudible vibrations at Juliet's feet rose to a steady purr, then a dangerously close roar.

"Run!"

Within seconds, she had flown out of the cave entrance and soared down onto the jungle floor, Phil scrambling along behind her.

"What?–What's happening?–" She grabbed him by the jumpsuit sleeve and pulled him down from the cave mouth, immediately darting toward the treeline. James and Jin needed no prodding; they were already on their feet by the time she flew past them. Mere moments after Phil was yanked away from the opening, a loud roaring from the bowels of the cave caused the ground to shake and grit to shower from the top of the cliff.

Ferns and palm fronds whipped back, bending with the force of the air rushing out of the cave mouth. The violent burst of air was succeeded by the pervasive, suffocating scent of smoke, and accompanied by a deep, ear-shattering roar. Juliet could feel bits of gravel hitting the back of her legs with the force of the rushing air. She didn't even need to look back to know what was chasing them.

Her first thought was to split up from the group and double back behind the monster. However, contrary to the "save yourself, don't put anyone else before you" training she'd received, she wasn't about to abandon her group. She skidded to a brief halt, watching everyone else whiz past her, making sure nobody had fallen or separated. Once Phil, the last of the group, had dashed past her, she continued running, bringing up the rear of the group.

Something familiar caught the corner of her eye–she knew exactly where they were now, giving her a burst of confidence. But would they trust her if she told them what to do? Phil didn't even cross her mind–he wasn't the person she was trying to earn the trust of.

"Keep going forward!" She barked above the commotion roaring behind them. She could see the treetops surrounding them beginning to shake, the trunks bending backwards just seconds after the group passed them. It was getting closer, but with the thickness of the jungle and what was coming in their path, she was sure they could outrun it.

Jin had easily taken the lead, but as soon as he stopped up ahead, everyone halted abruptly behind him. He'd stopped on the edge of a river; it had been fuller the last time she'd seen it, but now she could tell it would only come up to her chest.

"Swim across, to the other side–it won't follow you across the water," she panted. Jin didn't have to hear it twice; almost the second she said it, he dove in without hesitation. James gave her a split-second look of disbelief.

"_Can't_ _go over water? _So, it can't fly over this little stream?" He puffed incredulously.

"James–just _trust_ me," She'd barely even realized she'd said it, voice edged with panic, their eyes locked. For a split second, she couldn't even hear the roaring behind them–it was complete silence, just the two of them as their eyes met. She held her breath.

She felt the splashing of water on her bare legs before she'd heard the sound of him colliding with the water. Without waiting for him to start talking, she dove in behind James and took Phil with her. After a few strong kicks, she'd waded the both of them to the other side and pulled them both up onto the stony shore.

Juliet barely had enough time to get in a few quick pants of breath before she bolted for the treeline on the other side. The monster wouldn't follow them over water, but she didn't want to goad it into finding another way across. The cool water on her skin did little to combat the oppressive heat; by the time she'd ran out of energy again the droplets were completely dry. One by one, the rest of the group filed in beside her. She'd half-dragged Phil along behind her, while Jin had been on her heels the entire time. She held her breath, waiting for the last member of the group to come along behind. One heartbeat passed, then another–

Juliet sighed with relief as James emerged from the fern fronds, shaking water out of his boots. His hair, still wet from the dive, clung to his forehead in messy strands. Upon sighting her, he dipped his head in greeting.

"Well, if you wanted to go swimmin' you could'a just asked," She had to admit, he looked nice with his hair wet; it reminded her of seeing him first rise up out of the ocean water when she was drinking on the beach, before the flashes started.

"I don't think it would have been quite as exciting," she countered, smiling. He strode toward her, calloused hands giving a loose strand of her hair a gentle, playful tug.

Her smile deepened; it seemed that being in mortal danger had brought them together. She wondered if joining the Dharma folk was a bad idea–if being in a safer environment was deepening the gap between them. She felt guilty for feeling that; if they needed to be in constant danger to get along, perhaps _she_ was the problem.

James opened his mouth to say something, but Phil's shrill voice cut him off.

"This is _ridiculous!_" Despite everyone else being dry from the run, Phil was still sopping wet. The wet hair sticking to his head making his eyes look bigger and protrude more. Juliet thought he looked a bit like a wet rat. Fear seemingly forgotten; Phil marched up to Juliet.

"I think you set me up! This entire thing–dragging me around to look for your "_friend_"–this is some kind of trap. I think you, _Juliet_–if that even _is_ your real name–are a Hostile! And you're trying to get information. Horace might have let you in easily, but _I_ won't."

Juliet had never felt more neutral toward someone in her life. Had this happened some other time, she might have had the mind to feel offended, but it was kind of hard when she had to almost crane her neck downward to look at her accuser. At the moment, actually, she felt more at home–not _comfortable_, per say, more like familiarly miserable–than she had for a while here.

The monotony was suddenly broken as Juliet realized that not only had she zoned out, but James had stepped in front of her, almost protectively.

"Listen, Paul–"

"_Phil,_ myname is _Phil_!—"

"Right, _Phil, _I don't appreciate you comin' up to _my_ people and snapping at them just because you've had a bad day. I don't know if you've been on this rock for longer than a few seconds, but _Hostile_ is one hell of an accusation to throw around."

Juliet blinked once, then twice. For once in a long while she'd actually felt surprised about something. James towered over Phil, who had now cowered back a few steps, lips still peeled back in a cheap snarl.

"Are you all in on it, then?! Is this some kind of scheme to infiltrate us?" He spat, his voice reaching a high-pitched crescendo. Suddenly realizing he was surrounded, he started to lose steam.

'_My' people. He said I was one of his people. _The fluttering of hope in Juliet's heart was dampened by a sudden thought: it could just be something he said without meaning to. But she couldn't remember the last time someone had physically put themselves between her and a threat before. She could feel Jin hovering nearby, watching concernedly.

Outnumbered and thoroughly humiliated, Phil cowered like a beat jackal, sniffing defeatedly. "I don't trust you–_any_ of you–"

"Good thing 'yer not in charge then, eh?" Seemingly satisfied, James took a step back. "Just leave the lady alone, and we shouldn't have any more _problems_."

Juliet was unsure how to feel. Mostly, she was surprised. She'd been claimed and defended by another group–but this felt different from when Jack defended her on the beach. The stifled hope in her heart began to flutter again. She wanted to say she didn't need defending but being a part of a group meant helping each other–it was about what the action represented, rather than the need for defending.

"_You still got my back?"_

"You alright there, little lady?" She couldn't help but return his smile. The '_I don't need defending'_ balanced on the tip of her tongue, but she shallowed it back.

"I think I just _barely_ survived," she countered, watching the still-wet Phil slink away to sulk out of the corner of her eye. She gently wrapped her arms around herself, balancing on her tiptoes inside of her boots. "It's a good thing you were here," She was only half joking.

"Well, maybe you should stick around with me a little bit, just in case," He seemed to have a way of getting to her with just a lopsided smirk.

She hummed thoughtfully. "That sounds like a good idea."

Jin had been watching them with half-an-eye from underneath the shade of a tree. After a quick glance to the sulking Phil, he moved to join the two.

"So, where to next?"

The stone at Miles' back wasn't cold anymore–it was hot, so very hot. It was pitch black, but he was no longer surrounded by silence. A droning, almost organic ambience enveloped him. He could hear the whooshing of air, but the air around him felt thick and stagnant, almost tangible. He groped around him for the walls but couldn't feel them anywhere–yet he felt claustrophobic. The ambient whooshing of air continued, almost sounding like breathing. He could feel gentle, thumping and pulsing vibrations through his boots, almost like a heartbeat.

It was so, incredibly hot. He felt he was somewhere far underground, but at the same time he felt the sweltering heat of the tropical sun. The ground shook and rumbled subtly with every pulse of the 'heartbeat'. Though the cave walls were solid, Miles almost felt like they were shifting and coiling, closing in around him. Panic rose in his chest, choked with the hot, stagnant air. His brain felt slow, the heat making it so hard to think. He stumbled awkwardly to one side, hitting a wall. His hand jerked back as the surface was almost searing hot to the touch, before realizing the wall wasn't stone. He felt

Something was wrong with the wall, with the air, with the floor, with the caverns. He couldn't hear his own breathing anymore; the thick, hot air felt like it was stopping up his lungs and throat. Were the cave walls closing in on him? He felt around for the wall he had collided with, desperate for some kind of purchase. His hand brushed against something solid and radiating heat, wet with droplets of condensation. He felt at it again, a sudden jolt of fear and confusion coursing through him as he realized it was fur, not stone.

Miles stumbled a few steps backward before colliding with the opposite wall, feeling the furry, almost fleshy surface give slightly with the force of the collision. He whirled around, groping in the pitch-black darkness. What he had once thought was solid stone was now revealed to be fur, skin, _bones_. He could feel where the short pelts matted with what felt more like mucus than condensation; could feel the ridges and surfaces of skulls and vertebrae. Every breath-like rush of air would make the wall of flesh and fur pulse, as if part of one body.

His bad hand had come to rest on the wall, and he jerked it back as the heat singed his flesh–wait, bad hand? It wasn't hurting anymore, wasn't broken, wasn't covered in blood. The realization caused the world around him to almost implode, the walls falling away and the floor and ceiling moving quickly together, close to crushing him completely. A deafening, guttural roar filled his ears, getting louder and louder–

Miles sat up, taking in a massive gulp of the warm, humid jungle air. What had just happened?–

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," A voice came from somewhere to his left.

Glancing to one side, Miles realized he was sitting in a bed of warm, soft jungle loam in the shade of a fern. He opened his mouth to say something, before realizing all the memories of his strange dream were rushing like grains of sand through his fingers. He brought up his good hand to feel his bad arm; there were indeed bandages, and it did indeed hurt like hell.

"What happened?" He groaned, half to himself. A figure moved out of the shadows and extended a small canteen to him. Miles blinked, squinting at the container before warily taking it.

"We stopped to rest, and you fell asleep–it's water, you're going to need it." Richard nodded to the canteen.

Miles sighed, taking a swig. Maybe it was poisoned, but he didn't really care at this point. Honestly, he was starting to think the rest of his stay on this island was going to be him ferried around by dangerous, jungle-dwelling strangers, so he might as well get used to it. To be fair, he'd rather be taken on a full island tour by Richard, rather than his gun-toting goons from the 50's. Then again, those goons would probably be waiting for him a second time back at camp.

Hauling himself up off the ground, Miles handed the canteen back with a nod of thanks.

"We'd better get going, we'll hopefully be back by sunset," He wasn't really in the mood for more walking but was much less in the mood to be eaten by a tiger or whatever else lived out here. It could be worse, anyways. Richard wasn't exactly the conversational type, which was fine by him.

The next few minutes (or hours, maybe? He wasn't really sure) passed by uneventfully. Richard took him through more hidden paths cutting through the dark wilds, and Miles followed unenthusiastically, only stopping to shake rocks out of his boots or swat at a bug. He was kind of bored, actually. Not that he'd admit it out loud, but he'd rather have someone to banter with–like Juliet. Or Ford. Or even Kwon.

Miles picked up the pace as much as he could, trying to fall into step with Richard. He didn't like feeling like he was being dragged along somewhere. While this wasn't exactly a walk of shame, it wasn't exactly the most glamorous thing either. Okay, Miles had to admit he was pretty bored. And since Richard didn't have any intention of shooting him (not that he could see, at least)…

"So, you're not gonna ask?"

"About what?" Richard frowned, keeping his eyes on the path ahead.

"You know, the whole 'us-showing-up-now-and-in-the-50's-perfectly-the-same' thing? You really don't have any questions at all?"

"I don't know, are you going to ask me about how _I've _been here this entire time and looked completely the same?"

"Oh," he didn't really know how to respond to that. "That's a fair point, I guess." There was a bit of silence, but despite his antisocial exterior, Miles was surprisingly nosy.

"I'm guessing people ask you that a lot?"

He shrugged. "They aren't usually polite enough as to ask; they typically find out only after they try to kill me." Surprisingly casual, but not annoyed. He really did remind Miles of Juliet, same kind of mannerisms.

"That sucks," was really all Miles could say; at least they could bond over mortal danger.

Miles found it kinda funny that a few days (or years) ago, Richard and his goons had him tied up and ready for the slaughter in some tent. Though, he could say that about Juliet as well. Any of the 815 survivors, really. _I really keep forgetting how everyone I meet wants to kill me and vice versa. _

"You get used to it."

The rest of the journey was completed in comfortable silence. By the time Miles realized his surroundings had transitioned from thick-canopied jungles to shrubby temperate forest, bright orange light was starting to permeate the greenery.

After a few more stops for water and rest, he felt like the surrounding area was vaguely familiar, probably from when he was marched up to the Barracks as a trade in present-day. That being said, most of the island just looked all the same to him. He wondered if Juliet had ever felt that way during her Others training.

The air was still far too humid for comfort (though being from California, _everything_ felt too humid), but Miles could steadily feel the leaf litter begin to crunch under his boots and see small clouds of dust kicked up with every step as they entered the scrub like temperate jungle. Somewhere along there they hit a small stream, where a pitiful amount of water was gurgling over slimy pebbles in a riverbed that seemed suited for a much larger amount of water. Richard slowed to inspect it for a second but kept walking; Miles followed.

Not that he ever considered himself a nature person, but he had to admit that being dragged back to the Barracks by Richard was much more of a peaceful walk than he'd imagined. Still, he was starting to miss the air conditioner. For some reason though, it was a lot more pleasant out away from the Barracks. Then again, the bugs were a definite problem here.

Miles barely noticed that Richard had led him down a steep hill covered with rocks, then past a yawning cave mouth. The dark, solemn shadows from within felt like they were calling him. Again, he wondered if he should bring up that _thing_–but decided he'd risked his pride more than enough times already today. Shivering at the slight draft that drifted from the gaping maw, he started walking a little faster.

All of the jungle kind of looked the same to him; he was surprised (well, not really, the abilities of the Others never really failed to surprise him) at how quickly and methodically Richard led the way through the winding greenery, as if navigating purely by memory. Probably came with being old and all. Even Juliet would have looked clumsy in comparison to him.

After a moment Richard slowed, then eventually stopped. Miles, not paying attention, almost bumped into him. He was more concerned with how embarrassed he was than with the resurfacing pain in his broken arm as he self-consciously brought his arms close to his chest, trying to brush it off. _Oh, wait, we stopped–Why did we stop?_

"Don't say anything, let me take care of this," Richard was saying, carefully retrieving and unfolding the slip of paper from his shirt pocket.

"Take care of what?" He may have been thinking too much about Richard to pay attention to where he was going, but he definitely would have heard–

Before he could say anything else, the sound of heavy footsteps sounded from somewhere alarmingly close; Miles wondered how it had gotten that close without him hearing. Within a few seconds, the sound of heavy feet thrumming against the jungle floor was heading straight towards them.

Miles resisted the urge to scramble back out of the way as a broad-shouldered bay mare came barreling out of the ferns, immediately rearing in surprise at the two men standing nearby. Miles shrank back from the clouds of dust the rearing mare kicked up, and on closer inspection, realized that there was actually a person riding her.

"Bloody hell, do you _have_ to always be in my way, Richard? And you brought, what, a prisoner?" The horse seemed to settle slightly, allowing a better view of the man sitting atop her. Miles squinted–he looked and sounded vaguely familiar. He also sounded very British.

His eyes suddenly fell on Miles, "Oh–It's you,"

"Yeah, it's me," Miles repeated slowly, unsure of whether or not this was a good time to be sarcastic. Suddenly realizing he was half-hiding behind Richard, Miles cautiously stepped into clearer view, dusting some bits of leaf-litter off his shoulders.

The mare, upon seeing Miles, began to shake her head and shift her forehooves nervously, to the dismay of her rider. As if suddenly forgetting Miles was there, the rider turned again to scowl at Richard, who had been standing calmly in the same place for this entire time.

"Why is he here?"

"Miles is to be our guest until he is able to return to his people," He said calmly, presenting the horseman with the unfolded piece of paper. "I brought back what I said I would, do you want to read it, Charles?"

Charles frowned, eyes flickering from the paper to Richard, before swatting it away. "No, no I don't need to read it. What do you mean by 'guest'? I'm not keen on harboring these stowaways again; _you_ might like being ordered around by castaways, but I'd rather not," Oh, right, from the tent.

Richard's gaze slid calmly to the mare, who was now shaking her head uncomfortably, looking out of the corner of her eye at Miles. Richard reached up to rest the palm of his hand on her muzzle, as if to inspect her face.

"When's the last time you took Nutmeg's bridle off? I hope it hasn't been on all night," He changed the subject coolly, though his attempt didn't seem to settle the horse–_Nutmeg_, any.

"Never _mind_ that," sputtered Charles, swiping Richard away from the horse and tugging on her bit to get her attention. Miles held back a snicker as Charles screwed up his face in embarrassment. "If you're going to tie up the prisoner then do it quick, maybe I can drag him along behind,"

"He's a guest, not a prisoner," countered Richard, gently patting Nutmeg on the flank. "Maybe you can accompany us back? Since you're so concerned," Charles screwed up his face, gaze shifting from Richard to Miles and back.

"Fine, then," he snorted, giving the reins an exasperated tug. Nutmeg, seemingly glad to put distance between her and Miles, was happy to set off at a trot. Richard, not waiting for an answer, smoothly fell into step alongside the horse. Feeling a little awkward, Miles followed, sticking close to him.

"Friend of yours?" He nodded to the disgruntled Charles atop the horse, who was pretending not to pay any attention to either of them.

"You could say that," Richard replied, tucking the piece of paper back into his shirt pocket. Classic Others response, short and vague. Miles couldn't help himself from being nosy.

He found it kind of strange–actually, pretty strange–that he was being babysat by the person who, in the 50s, kindly explained to Daniel that his people had murdered a group of soldiers in the most casual way possible. Still, Miles' definition of 'weird' was a little skewed by now. He was, after all, in a tight-knit group with one of Linus' people, who they were sent to the island to get rid of. Very strange, this all was. _And I thought the freighter was a ragtag group._

Miles felt his heart drop a little; but he wasn't entirely sure why. Noticing the bright orange rays of sunset starting to dull into dim, maroon light as starlight crept through the canopy; it reminded him of how he'd been out by himself almost all day.

Of course, Richard was surprisingly friendly, but something felt incredibly off. No, no that he was spending the day with a mass-murderer, he could put that aside, but how empty he felt. He'd chalked it up to the shock of what had happened in the tunnels, but now it was plain to see he was missing something. _Or I'm just thinking too much –yeah, that's it._

Okay, now time to think about how he was more likely to be held hostage for some kind of bargain rather than be a 'guest', as Richard had put it. If Alpert had wanted him dead, he would have just shot him right out there; but he didn't. That means he needs him for something, right? Now if Alpert spares him and treats him kindly, and the rest of the Dharma folk find out, they're gonna think something's up, and think they're part of the Hostiles. But the alternative, being held hostage and/or shot like a real Dharma member would not only be pretty anti-climactic, but probably screw all of them over.

_If only I hadn't run off like an idiot._ He tried to leave it at that, but as the sunlight dwindled, it was easier to see the little flickering torches up ahead, and he felt apprehension rise in his chest. There wasn't any backing out, it was looking like he was gonna spend the night in the Hostiles' camp until they decided what to do with him.

The branches making up the thin, shrubby canopy overhead began to knit together as if to form a tunnel of greenery, treetops rising to more of a proper jungle height. The path on one side sloped up to form a shoulder-height incline, roots and rocks jutting out of the dirt wall as grass and greenery draped from the overhang. As they approached, Miles could see the torches flickering in several places, and the silhouettes of many canvas tents pitched in the wooded clearing and further up the slope.

Nutmeg was probably the only one of them happy to return to camp, picking up pace as the torchlight came into sight and leaving Miles and Richard in the dust as she trotted happily into the midst of the tents, almost bumping into a woman walking nearby in her hurry to get away from Miles. He stopped walking abruptly; Richard continued a few steps before noticing he wasn't following.

"We're not taking you prisoner, if that's what you're thinking," Miles was almost inclined to trust him for a moment but bristled instinctively. Taking handouts wasn't something Miles Straume did. Okay, yeah, he was pretty hungry and tired, but that didn't mean anything.

"I don't think I'm very welcome," Miles realized that sounded more pitiful than he'd thought, and shrunk into himself, suddenly feeling very awkward. _Can't really remember the last time I felt welcome anywhere–that's stupid, why did I stay that?_

"You don't need to worry about him; we're not going to keep you here if you don't want to be here–but although I can walk for a long while without rest and sustenance, I assume you can't." He blinked coolly. God, why did he have to be so calm and _logical_ about this? It made Miles feel unreasonable.

Was it just him, or did the surrounding area get really dark all of the sudden? There was still sunlight just a few seconds ago; now it felt extremely dark. The torchlight, despite being centered in the Hostiles' camp, looked very warm and inviting compared to the shadows. Miles felt even more awkward just standing out in the darkness, so he took a few steps forward.

"You can stay out here if you really want to, but–"

"What, you think I'm dumb? I'd rather get eaten by other people than by a tiger," Miles cut him off quickly, trying not to feel more awkward than he already was. Richard seemed either unaffected or completely oblivious to his flustered demeanor. Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks on him but stepping into the warm torchlight banished the chill he'd had.

Having made up his mind, Miles strode almost confidently. However, he only got a few steps past Richard before he felt wildly out of place and noticed that there were an awful lot of people around here, and an awful lot of them were staring at him. It was only when a few of the rag-clad Hostiles started grabbing guns that he felt this wasn't really a good idea.

"Who—" started one of them, almost immediately reaching for her rifle. Before she could point it in his direction, Richard stepped smoothly in front of him, palm raised.

"It's alright, he's a guest of ours." Miles wasn't sure whether to be offended that he seemed like he needed protecting or impressed at Richard's ability. Either way, he ducked his head and let Richard lead him through the camp. Eager to get out of range of the standard-issue Hostile rifles, he tagged quickly along behind him. Miles tried to keep his head down.

Before he knew it, he was brought to where the land rose sharply upward, rocks and roots weaving in and out of the packed dirt wall, greenery and leaflitter spilling over the waist-height overhang. The upper layer of the camp was very sparse, much less people and tents spaced between the towering trees. Miles opened his mouth to protest climbing, but before he could, Richard firmly tugged him up by his good arm without a word.

Finally, he was taken to another tent, not unlike the one he and the rest of his team were held captive in, hooray. Though, instead of an empty interior aside from a sorry-looking picnic table, this tent was obviously lived in. Nets and ropes were stored on the walls and draped from the canvas ceiling, dangling over a neat but unused-looking cot toward the far end. On the side there was a very used-looking desk, stacked with all manners of papers and several mugs; some of them stacked on top of each other, others next to each other, all various levels full of cold coffee dregs. The interior was a mixture of meticulously neat and stressfully disorganized. Miles let himself be ushered to the neatly made cot in the back wall, realizing he'd have to resign himself to being fussed over. Again.

Miles wondered how long he'd have to put up with people taking care of him whether he liked it or not. Was that just part of being a group? Hell if he knows. He remembered, vaguely, one time on the freighter where he tripped over some wiring and sprained his ankle, and Charlotte had to patch him up. Of course, she called him an idiot while doing it–he _wasn't_ an idiot by the way, anyone would have tripped over the wiring–but that was probably the first time the two of them had actually talked.

Miles started to feel a little antsy all of the sudden. It was– what, the third time? Fourth?–where he couldn't decide if he was really being treated as a guest or taken hostage. With Juliet, there was no question she didn't have any ulterior motive–granted it was annoying she cared so much about him and Dan, and he kind of missed being held at gunpoint. But Richard and all his rag-clad Hostile buddies were a whole different ballgame. Rather than feeling like he'd been rescued and delivered back home, he felt more like the one time he had gotten lost and his mom had to drag him home and scolded him for walking off.

_Ugh, I don't even want to think about my mom right now._ The chillingly off-sounding mimicry of her voice bounced around in his head. He'd made up his mind to tell Juliet by now–might as well, she probably knew about it anyways.

By the time Richard was finished changing his bandages, Miles couldn't get the thought out of his head that he'd spent the whole day away from the rest of his crew. Sure, Miles Straume didn't _need_ anyone, but it'd sure be nice. The flickering of the oil lamp on the bedside was almost mesmerizing, but he felt restless.

"I know you're wanting to get back to your people–"

"Yeah, I am," Miles blurted out without meaning to, scolding himself for how desperate he sounded.

" –But you're still a good walk away and being injured, and not used to walking long distances, I assume." Richard didn't seem to notice, instead fiddling with the first-aid satchel he'd brought along.

"Oh, come on, I used to walk the whole way to school." Miles piped up, relieved for at least some kind of banter.

"And how far was _that_?"

"Few blocks, I guess…" He wondered how far away the Hostile camp was from Dharmaville. Before he could add any more banter, the canvas tent suddenly opened. A blonde woman strode a few steps inside, before suddenly noticing Miles was there.

"Am I interrupting something?" She asked blankly. Miles wondered if it was just bad luck, or there was something about him that seemed to attract Brits. He met eyes with the blonde chick for a moment. _Oh. Chick from the tent that pointed a gun at me._

"No, you're not," Richard rose to his feet, turning to face her. "I'm assuming you're here to see our guest?"

"Eloise, right?" Miles was getting tired of being re-introduced to people; being a time traveler was surprisingly exhausting. She stopped, as if seeing him there for the first time. Their eyes met for a moment, and Miles got a strange feeling about her. Something was… off. Yeah, she was the same chick from the fifties but… Huh. Now that he was thinking about it he couldn't really put words to it.

"Yes," she answered simply, as if not surprised at all by how he knew. After another heartbeat of awkward eye contact, she turned to Richard. "Did you look at that contract they want us to sign?"

"Yes, I did, but–"

"I think it's stupid. They let in outsiders and ask us to keep our numbers down." Without waiting for a response, she snatched a paper off one of the many stacks and tilted it, inspecting it. Richard trailed behind her, frowning.

"Do we need to discuss this right now? I'm kind of busy,"

"You're _always_ busy, and he's not going to tell anyone anything. Are you, Miles?"

Miles was starting to feel awkward. Not that he wasn't nosy, but he didn't feel like any of this was his business. Plus, it was boring gossip, not the fun stuff like Daniel sleeping with socks on–which Miles _still_ didn't understand.

"Yeah, I just kinda wanna go home." His gaze flickered from Richard to Eloise and back. Eloise blinked at him.

"There, see? He's fine–Oh, and Charles used your saddle on Nutmeg again, just thought you should know," She continued vacuously, placing the contract back on the table and turning on her heels. "I'll be in my tent. Good evening!" With that, she curtly exited the tent. Miles didn't realize until a few heartbeats after she'd left that she knew his name without him saying it.

"Not that I'm jealous of you two flirting or anything, but maybe you can go and ask someone at the Truce border to give me a lift back?"

"Flirting?... Erm, no I can't exactly do that." Richard was tidying up the papers that Eloise had displaced, frowning. "You're not exactly part of Dharma, we can't apply the same rules to you that we do to them. We'll bring you back once you're done resting, I think LaFleur would rather you be brought back in one piece."

"So, I'm in time out?"

"More like bedrest. Maybe we can talk about it after you get something to eat."

Miles huffed and crossed his arms like a petulant child, but his growling stomach betrayed him. He realized that it was now completely dark outside. He had to admit, he felt kind of bad getting the bedrest treatment while LaFleur and Juliet were dragging everyone all over the place looking for him.

Miles watched the oil lamp on the bedside flicker as Richard exited. _At least I'm not in a cave anymore._

Left, right, left, right, step in some brambles, try to play it off, get tangled up and have to stop to fit it, check to see if anybody saw, left, right, left, right…

James never thought that a few nights on an air-conditioned couch would take away his knack for jungle-crawling, but here he was, huffing and puffing up the slope back towards the road. Maybe it was just being close to Juliet, who looked far from exhausted, easily taking the steep slope like a champ. He never thought being shown up would be so… enjoyable.

He was glad to see her mostly unperturbed, but he could tell something was up. Something was _always_ up with her. The pale, amber rays of sunset cast her drawn face in a somber light, highlighting the weariness in her eyes. _She wants to find Miles._ He wondered if she ever got tired, caring about everyone but herself.

Despite his aching feet, he pushed himself to speed up and fall into step with her, sending bits of leaflitter scattering down the slope as he did so.

"How're we feeling, jungle superstar?" He puffed.

"Energized. I think I could go for another few laps, what about you?" For a moment he wasn't breathless because of the climb. Though it was a joke, he could tell she was slowing down for him.

James felt a small burst of satisfaction at quickly being able to spot the disappointment in her eyes, presumably at not finding anything interesting. He wondered if it was his fault, he'd come on too strong wanting to go to the Truce border.

"We'll find him," he forced out, the vulnerability obvious in his voice. Maybe it was a risk, extending himself like this, but Juliet was doing nothing short of running herself ragged trying to keep everyone together.

He wondered if she was genuinely surprised for a moment, or if he was just seeing things.

"I thought you said he was annoying?" She quipped, adjusting the pack slung over her shoulder. That was probably the first time she'd broke eye contact before him; the moment went by so quick he barely noticed.

"He _is_ annoying, but we gotta stick together, yeah?"

She smiled. "That's true–he _is_ kind of annoying."

Finally, they crested the vegetated slope and arrived on the very edge of a well-used dirt road, cutting through the scrubby, temperate jungle. Sunset was late on the island, and though beautiful, it ended quickly. He hoped they weren't too far out; they weren't supposed to be out here all day. He watched the distant bamboo and tree trunks become silhouetted by the fading rosy glow near the horizon.

"Back the way we came?" Suggested Jin, being the second-to-last up the slope. Phil, huffing and puffing, dragged up behind him.

"We came… from the other side… of this road…" Maybe keeping him exhausted would be the best way to keep the peace.

James surveyed the area, frowning. It was unlikely they'd get back before dark. Knowing Horace, he probably wouldn't care, but it wasn't how he expected to end the day. He reached for Juliet's arm to get her attention.

"Do we wanna go and get reinforcements?" She considered it for a moment, letting his hand linger on her arm, then broke the contact as she took off the satchel she had been carrying.

"It couldn't hurt," she agreed quietly.

Her head swung up for seemingly no reason. He followed her gaze, and visibly started when a van came pattering around the bend not a moment later. He didn't realize how dark it had gotten until the headlights were shining right in their direction.

Upon noticing them, the driver brought it to a swift stop, the metal frame creaking as it halted on the packed dirt. As his eyes adjusted to the headlights, James spotted Horace waving enthusiastically in the passenger seat.

The driver was someone he didn't know; the low lighting made his drawn face shadowy and unnerving, contrasting Horace's demeanor. The smaller man swung open the passenger door and hopped onto the dirt.

"Hey, I wondered where you all were! Heading back now?" James could feel Juliet stiffen a bit at his side.

The driver slowly exited as well, adjusting his long, spotless labcoat as he did so. He took in the ragged group with a far-from-enthused expression.

"Where's the other one of your group?" His eyes, surprisingly, landed right on Juliet.

"We've had an issue," She started calmly. James noticed she'd move her arm back in range and brushed a hand against it reassuringly.

"Small setback, one of our men got himself lost," He picked up, watching as the driver–Pierre, by the name on his labcoat–listened bemusedly.

Horace frowned. "Need help? We can send out the rest of the team to search–"

"Miles, right?" Pierre cut him off, giving the group another quick glance as if to make sure he was correct. James would have been surprised that he knew Miles' name, had they not all been wearing jumpsuits with their first names in big, black letters.

"Yes, he's the one who's lost." Juliet's demeanor changed slightly, watching Pierre with a kind of curiosity in her eyes. There was something about him that struck James as familiar, as well.

He glanced between the two–leaders? He wasn't sure what to call either of them, maybe just high-ranking residents–and tugged Juliet a few steps toward them.

"I suppose a ride couldn't hurt,"

Though it was true Miles hadn't been ruthlessly interrogated, eaten alive, or waterboarded, something worse than that had happened–he had to let Richard drag him around and make him eat until he was sufficiently 'taken care of,' then had to sit around awkwardly waiting for something else to be done to him. Okay, sure, his arm was a little messed up but that didn't warrant babysitting. He really would have preferred waterboarding.

Now here he was, sitting outside someone's tent on a wooden crate, watching Richard, Eloise, and Charles argue over god knows what. Charles seemed more concerned than anyone that Miles would want to go and share information with Horace–which, Miles couldn't imagine wanting to talk to Horace for any reason, especially not Hostiles' gossip–but Eloise didn't bat an eye. Apparently, being from a group of shipwreckers had its perks. He would have listened in to the argument if he had enough energy to be nosy.

It felt like he was back in the fifties again, having to sit around until Richard decided what to do with him while arguing with the two others. Except he was alone this time. And his arm was broken.

"You can't just do things like that without telling me! I deserve to know–"

"There's no way to tell you if you keep going off by yourself, Charles, you aren't making a very good name for yourself–"

Miles didn't usually feel self-conscious or out of place, but even the horse was giving him weird looks here. The only one who didn't really care that he was there was Eloise. She gave him the creeps; he didn't know why. Something about her was… off. Familiar, though. Certainly not his-mom-in-the-caves level off, but something just bugged him about her.

And it wasn't that he didn't _like_ attention, but god he was itching to get back hom–

_The Barracks. The house in the Barracks._ He corrected himself quickly. Yeah, he'd rather get stared at for drinking orange juice out of the carton and sleep on a rickety porch swing. And he missed bantering with people that he didn't have to worry about taking him hostage or interrogating him–well, not worry as _much_.

He was jerked out of his thoughts by a man running in from the far side of camp, panting. Nutmeg, sensing she was about to be needed, made a getaway between two tents as he rushed by.

Richard turned around to face him. "Aldo? What–"

"Van backfired right at the border; I think you should go see what's happening."

"What the bloody hell are they doing at the border at _this_ time of night?" Charles looked at Richard, rather than Aldo for an answer. The advisor sighed and started stalking out of camp on Aldo's heels.

"I'll be right back, I'd advise you to come too, Miles," Miles' head jerked up as he realized he was being dragged into the drama. He didn't want to spend the night in camp, but he wasn't really up for more walking. Okay, he had to admit he _was_ curious.

"Oh, so he gets to come?" Charles frowned, immediately stalking after them. He paused halfway out of camp, looking for Nutmeg, before giving up and pelting after them. Eloise, who seemed to follow Charles wherever he went, came last.

Aldo was the only one carrying a lit torch, not that any of the other Hostiles seemed to need it anyways. Miles would have moved closer to the light so as not to look like an idiot, but he felt awkward not being next to Richard, the only person he really knew here.

"Wanna tell me why I'm coming?" He panted.

"Just a hunch."

_Right, back to vague and cryptic answers, ugh._

Miles would have been unsettled by how _dark_ everything was, despite the moonlight up above, but it felt nowhere near the pitch-blackness he'd seen down in the tunnels. Richard was still slowing down for him, but he tried to pick up the pace a little. He really, really wanted to tell Juliet about the cave thing; hell, he'd tell Ford too, why not. _They've probably fought and made up like_ _ten times by now._

Even if he was surrounded by Dharma's–enemies? Rivals? Frenemies?–frenemies, the crunching of leaves and feeling of hot, but fresh air was far better than cold stone and droning silence.

Charles wasted no time reaching forward and snatching the torch from Aldo as a noise resonated from somewhere nearby. Miles thought it was a gunshot at first and prepared to duck and cover (or get shot, which was more likely), but none of the Hostiles seemed too concern. Richard snatched the torch from Charles and abruptly took the lead, heading toward the source of the noise.

Miles almost didn't notice the slope as it dropped from under his feet, but quickly recovered as to save himself from any further embarrassment. Curiosity overwhelming his tiredness, he followed the torchlight until he could see another light source–the headlights of a van. He could hear muffled voices as well.

"I didn't do anything that time!"

"That's why you don't all sit in one area in the back–"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know the van had _feelings_ now–"

Oh, great, _Phil_, the last person he wanted to here. Then Horace, the second-to-last person he wanted to hear. And –wait, it couldn't be, could it?

"LaFleur?" Richard might as well have grabbed Miles by the hand and marched him up there like that, but instead he found himself tagging at his heels as they crested the slope onto the dirt road.

"I assume this is yours," Miles looked out from around Richard to see the ragtag group standing by the backfired van, all extremely surprised to see him.

"Yes, it is," Juliet was the first to respond, immediately looking relieved, "welcome back, Miles,"

Miles would have smiled if he hadn't caught himself at the last second. However, he was unable to stop himself from damn near running to meet the rest of his group. It was almost surreal, immediately being surrounded by people who were happy to see him–and even stranger that he felt ten times better surrounded by said people.

"So, we weren't fun enough to hang out with, eh?" Ford seemed happy to see him at least, giving him a pat on the back. Rather than be snippy about it, Miles decided to accept it without backlash.

"Yeah, yeah, just wanted to see some sights."

"Good! Good to have you back!" Kwon was probably the most outwardly glad to see him; Miles didn't really consider himself a likeable person–not that he _cared_ what other people thought about him–but it was good to know people were excited to see him. Though come the next time he steals someone's food out of the fridge, they might be a little less happy.

"What happened to your arm? You have gravel all over you," Juliet, of course, was the first to notice the bandages, gently grabbing his arm and inspecting it in the low light. Not that he was jealous of Dan being babied when he was sick, but at least he got to have a turn in Juliet's doctor's office (also known as the spare bedroom.)

"Hey, it really is him! Miles, right? Glad to see you!" Oh, right, Horace. He pushed his way through the small crowd of castaways to beam at him. His gaze immediately turned to Richard, who was still standing at the treeline. While visibly startled, he tried to maintain his composure.

"Oh! Richard, um, nice to see you." He offered a half-hearted polite smile, which wasn't returned. Instead, Richard took a few steps forward.

"Thank you," Juliet smiled politely at him, but kept her distance. He seemed to respect it, giving a dip of his head.

"Of course," His attention turned to Miles, "Goodbye, Miles, be more careful in the future." Miles flushed slightly. As awkward as his trip was, nobody shot at him, and the food at their camp was surprisingly good. He wouldn't go down and see that monster for any amount of money, but he wouldn't mind getting 'lost' on their next patrol.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks." He watched as Richard disappeared as quickly as he arrived, thankfully taking Charles and Eloise with him. Horace's head snapped abruptly in his direction.

"D-Did they take you into their camp?" He asked quietly, "What did you see? Did you hear anything ? –"

"I think Miles would like a few moments to rest, at first," The unfamiliar voice startled Miles for a brief moment, looking up to see the labcoat-clad figure from which it came. Reading the name _Pierre_ off the coat gave him such a visceral burst of anger in the pit of his stomach he almost forgot he injured.

God, the _last_ thing he needed right now was to have his douche of a father try and be nice to him.

"I'm _fine_!" He snapped, a bit louder than he meant to, yanking his arm out of Juliet's grasp and forcing himself into the back of the van, not waiting to see his reaction. After a beat of silence, the rest of the group followed, talking among themselves.

"What did they do to you? Did they ask you any questions? –You didn't _tell _them anything, did you?"

"Drop it, Phil, he's obviously tired, can't we all just go back in peace?"

"If you want to find out that bad, we could always drop you off at the border so you could see for yourself,"

Miles leaned his head back against the wall of the van, letting the chatter fade into the jungle ambience. Yeah, they were annoying, but it felt familiar. Safe. He let himself drift on the edge of sleep the rest of the way back.

The Barracks were quiet and inactive at night, most people retiring to their small yellow bungalows shortly after dark. The only signs of life were the AC units humming steadily out of some units, and lamplight glowing in a few others. Green, leafy ferns and exotic flowers spilled out onto either side of the wide sidewalk that wound through the neighborhood. It narrowed, the concrete pooling into a small area where the back ends of three yardless houses met, making a kind of faux alley. A van sat at the very edge of a lamppost's warm glow, half in and half out of the grassy area off of the concrete.

Just within the view of the alley, a pair of figures walked into the light, heads close together as they stopped to talk.

Miles gently set down the can of beer where he sat on the bed of the van, legs dangling over the edge and just barely brushing the short grass below. He watched, intently, as one of the distant pair moved closer to the other, smiling up at him.

It was such a strong, but muted anger that built up in the pit of his stomach; watching the labcoat-clad man smile back at Lara–his _mother_–and touch her arm. He wondered if he could somehow get close enough to hear what they were saying, or if it would only upset him further.

Juliet sat next to him, a calm presence at his side.

"How long are you going to sit out here watching them?" She asked quietly, no hint of annoyance or criticism in her voice.

Miles flexed his fingers, curled them into fists, then let his hands relax at his side, gaze trained on his parents.

"Thinks he's some hotshot scientist–god, look at him touching her–" Normally he wouldn't let himself get so worked up over this, especially not in front of someone else, but Juliet felt different to him. He could feel her eyes on him, a steady presence; it made him stop and breathe.

"Be glad you don't know anyone here," he said, after a while.

"Don't jinx it," she replied coolly.

He could help but feel his heart rate pick up a little as Lara leaned in for a kiss; how did Pierre think he could treat her like this and still treat her like trash? Sure, they looked happy now–but Miles couldn't help but wonder when he'd see what his ma was talking about. He dug his nails into the bed of the van. _He's gonna break her heart._

"You know it's only going to upset you more," Juliet's voice cool and concerned voice cut through his cloud of anger like a knife. He felt the distant urge to make some snappy comeback but didn't have the energy. She was right.

"I know," Miles murmured, picking up the can and swirling the dark liquid in it.

He tried to focus on anything else but his parents' footsteps on the pavement felt louder than anything else. He looked up just in time to see the couple walk out of view behind a house. There was a brief moment of silence as their voices and footsteps faded into nothingness. A cat, silhouetted in the lamplight, slunk quietly across the mouth of the alley; but otherwise, nothing moved.

Miles felt the aluminum crinkle slightly as his hand tensed, then relaxed. He put it down and put his head in his hands (or his good hand, rather.)

"You can't change anything. You know that," Juliet went on reproachfully. Miles took a moment to consider this.

"That only makes it worse. It's gonna happen no matter what I do," He spoke slowly, as if fully understanding the concept for the first time.

"So there's no point in trying; it's going to happen, you might as well just forget about it as much as possible." He wanted to lash out defensively, but he was far too tired to fight the comfort.

"I guess," for a moment, they sat in silence. He wondered if this was enough for him to leave over. Jungle living seemed boring at best, but he didn't know if he could handle being in close quarters with his _dad_. Maybe their paths wouldn't cross all that much, but he could only hope.

"Hey, I got a question for you,"

"Yeah?" She blinked at him calmly.

"So uh, if we know that the Others win the war and all the Dharma people die… why are we staying over here? Wouldn't we want to be on the winning side?"

She considered this; he could see her stiffen slightly as she thought.

"It's easier to get accepted here, and we have an easy way off the island if we need to make an escape. It's just… more advantageous to stay here for now. If things change, we can always move sides." She explained. Having a battle-hardened Other on their side was something to be glad about, Miles thought. Though, he felt a bit weird about her talking about groups and people as if they were parts of some kind of game.

"So, we stay where we can survive?" He echoed her words.

"Right." She seemed indifferent toward whatever allegiance the Dharma Initiative thought they had to them. Everyone –well, everyone except Phil–seemed to view them as one of their own. It was probably easier for her, not knowing anyone here.

"It's what I've always done here," she picked up her own can and looked into it, "Survive, I mean."

"You don't care about anyone here? We're not… one of them?" His question wasn't accusatory, but genuinely curious.

"Of course not," she replied bluntly, "We're among them, but not one of them. It's just more advantageous to be here. If we have to jump ship to survive, then so be it."

"Huh," he wasn't sure how to respond to that. It was… interesting. "Is that why you hooked up with the survivors and quit being an Other?"

"In a way, yes. It becomes less about who you want to see and where you want to go, and more about just… staying alive." She stared blankly into the distant pathways as she spoke. She seemed so set on leaving according to Ford, he almost wanted to ask why she'd stayed–but he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

They sat there like that; drinking peacefully and staring out into the quiet night. Miles didn't feel his arm hurting anymore. Crickets chirped; a wild dog howled in the distance. It was quaint, the little neighborhood. Cheesy, sure, but it had its charm.

It really wasn't all that bad here. 

❤ episode 4 – down the rabbit hole ❤  
❤ synopsis - ❤  
"On their first expedition to search for the rest of the crew, the shipwreckers break apart suddenly. Miles finds himself lost and separated from the group–and he's not alone."  
❤centric character - miles ❤ 


End file.
